


A Song Of Wolves And Dragons

by HouseOfEl



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV), crossover - Fandom
Genre: Dark/Manipulative/Cunning Daenerys Targaryen, Dark/Manipulative/Cunning Jon Snow, F/F, F/M, R Plus L Equals J, Warg Jon Snow, Wargs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-10
Updated: 2019-08-11
Packaged: 2020-02-29 17:16:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 30,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18782644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HouseOfEl/pseuds/HouseOfEl
Summary: Thanks in advance to all that chooses to read this story. Positive criticism are welcome, and trolls will be ignored. All mistakes are mine and mine alone. Still looking for a beta.





	1. Prologue- A New Thread Of Fate Rewritten

                                                                                       **A Song Of Wolves And Dragons**  
**HouseOfEL**

 

 

Summary:

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The Old Gods dived through the threads of fate, and they witness the fall of humanity once the Long Night arrived. The King and Queen though united and powerful still fall, and with them, the realm of man.

Wanting to change the future, they share the future with their chosen beyond the wall. Now, can the Crow and Children of the forest make a difference?

 

Notes:

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To George R. R. Martin, for without him, none of us would be here. He's giving us such a rich world, that we fans can play with.

Believe it or not, this story started while I was deployed and I was bored. So I binge the first six seasons, then I started writing. I've been an avid reader, even wrote a few stories for the other fandoms, just never published them.

  
So enough talk, here's my take on Martin's vast world, hope you guys enjoy this.

 

> * * *
> 
>  

 

                                                                                                **Prologue \- A New Thread Of Fate Rewritten**

 

                                                                                                              **The Three Eye Crow**

 

The Rebellion Begins

No, please no! This, this cannot be! He shouts into the unknown. This has never happened before. Since becoming the Greenseer, he always had control of his visions. The Visions of past and present were his domains, never before did he had any troubles of accessing them. But this, this was different. True he had no control of future visions, since the future could always change, and what he witnessed weren't absolute, but never did he have visions when it was not he that accessed them. More still, they weren’t true visions, but just glimpses of possible futures in an infinite number of futures which he had no control over. But now, he was stuck here in this place seeing these visions.

It was futile it seems to try to stop the visions from coming forth, 'so like a ship on a course with a deadly storm' he chooses to let the flow takes him where it desires instead of fighting it.

The visions first took him to the farthest reaches of the icy North, a place where even the Free Folk and the deadliest of predators refuses to go, for they know in these icy cold, the truest of all predators resigned. For lo and behold, before him stands the Night King, surrounded by his warriors, and his army of wrights. An army that seemed endless, an army if he chose to count, would take him near a whole cycle and still not be enough. The army of said King was made of off not only the humans, but every different types of animals, even those that went instinct many years ago. Not only was the army of the Night King vast, it was just as grotesque. Limbs hanging off body parts, skins peeling off, bones protruding. It was a macabre of horrors giving form.

It seems that while the realm were killing each other, the Night King and his Generals were recruiting. The Night King's cunningest was so subtle that he failed to realize how monstrous he's army has become. If these were visions of the future, and were to be true, both he and the Children have failed in stopping the Others.

And before he could formulate another thought, the visions came and whisk him away from the darkness of the icy North to the wall that separated man from the monsters that lurks in the darkness. He watches as the Night King raises a horn to his lips, and At that moment, he knew that all was lost. Though he's mind and eyes refuse to believe what he was witnessing, but in his heart he knew what the Night King carried.

Once more he scowled himself for his idiocy. In his absolute watch over the Night King, he blinded himself by failing to see the Night King plans. It seems that while he watches over the Night King movement, the Night King soldiers were free to wander and search for the Horn.

So now he watches helplessly as the Night King raises the Horns of Winter to his mouth and blows-and the sound that was let loose shattered the Wall. As the wall crumbles before him and the ice smashes into the ground, he imagines the vibrations could be felt all the way to Dragonstone. He watches the wall that was created to protect the land of Man, a wall that stood for nearly 8,000 years was rendered useless rubles in the blink of an eye.

 

'Once more he is whisk away before he could see the fallout of the wall. Standing in the middle of a battlefield, two armies ready to do battle for the throne.'

On one side stood a man, the self-proclaimed Kraken King, pale and handsome with black hair with a dark beard. One eye hidden with an eye path, while the other eye, blue as the sky shines with a darkness and evil that no man should posses. Dress in a valyrian armor, with a coat long enough to reach his chins, and on his back, the Kraken displayed proudly for all to see.

On the other side, the other self-proclaimed Queen. Fair skin, beautiful to all, even if one were blind. Emerald eyes holding nothing but contempt. Hair cut short, and dress in her golden robes with the lion in full display. And just like the Kraken, she was just as mad.

He's heart cries when they give the order to their armies to charge, and he's heart cries for he knows it's too late. The armies will fight, they will die, and the dead will rise again as soldiers for the true enemy.

Before he could lament in his sorrows, he's shown Winterfell, and there he sees them, two beings as different as night is to day, but oh so similar. The King who cares not to be King, and the Queen who proclaimed herself as such by right and hardship-How he knew who they were, he knew not, but he knew-And behind them stood those that follows them willingly into the unknown. A war band of warriors of all races, and mere folk alike turn warriors ready to lay down their lives selfishly for the safety of all. Seeing such a union made he's heart sings but knowing it to be still too late.

With a roar from the King, the final war begins. Those of the living an undead clashes. The living fought with fierceness in their hearts, with the courageous to end the Long Night and with the will to live on. But still they were outnumbered ten to one. And for every dead they slay by fire, five of the living fell to their one. The Three Eye Crow watches on as the Night King and his Generals observed the battle from a hill top with naught a care in the World. For they know there was nothing to fear. For behind them lies the Queen's three greatest weapons made his.

The Three Eye Crow realize why the Three weren't unleashed. This was just a game to the Night King. No more, no less, for he knew he has already won the war for the Dawn. And for the first time, the Crow realize the Night King wasn’t just a mindless beast with naught just destruction in mind. He was as calculating and manipulative-no the Crow now realize, this being was far worse-and the living as this dream have been showing him were paying for it.

The Crow once more surveys the battlefield, and tears fell from his one good eye, an emotion such as crying that he thought were lost to him once he claimed his title. For on the battlefield, the Queen and King were the last two left of the living, and they were been held down by those they were once called friends and family not too long ago. He continues to watch as the Night King leisurely walked to them with naught a care in the world-then again, why hurry when you’ve already won. Stopping in front of the two rulers, the Night King look upon them, and not a second later, he plunges his ice spear into the Queen stomach and ending her life, and all the while never removing his cold icy eyes from the King. Her last word to her King, her husband, her life and lover were words of endearments. “I love you J”, and before she could whisper his whole name, her body breathed it's last.

The Three Eye Crow watches as the King unleashed a scream of pure pain and sorrow. So much so that more tears fell from his good eye. He watches as the Night King plunges his ice spear in the Kings chest and ends his life, and the Crow could have sworn he saw pleasure in the Night Kings eyes.

Believing that was the end, he is whisk away again to the South, and there he sees the army of the dead attacking and killing the Southerners. The coward King knowing all was lost left on his ships thinking he was safe, and he watches as the Queen and her army were wiped out, only to rise up once more as wrights from the army of the dead with a mere hand gesture from the Night King himself.

New visions flashes forward, this time of the cowardly King watching from his flagship as his ships were frozen, and pulled to the depth of the sea by his own weapon that he previously unleashed to threaten others.

More visions assault the Crow, taking him across the sea, first to Braavos, Pentos, Astapor, the Great Grass Sea, and he watches as all fell before the Night King and his army of the dead. In the end, the Crow witnesses as the whole World became covered in an Icy Cold the realm was ever once subjected too, and an eternal darkness that covered the sun itself, and with no means of sustain life. The Crow watches as the humans that survived the initial fallout of the Night King struggles to survive the eternal darkness and cold, for no place was safe. The Crow continues to wander the realm, watching as all fall before the elements itself, only to rise as wrights-slaves to the Others.

With no more visions conjuring forth, and the Crow not able to return to the realm of the living, he begins to wander aimlessly in the barren land, searching for a waypoint to escape this prison not of his making. Yet no matter how much he wanders and searchers for a solution, none came forth. In the end, the Crow fell to his knees and scream to the heavens. And before he could continue to wallow in his sorrow, he felt the wind shift, the air becoming hot and hard to breath, and the ground he was kneeling on grumble under him. Lighting and thunder roar above him. Just as fast, all became quiet, and before he could form a singular thought about said phenomenon, multiple voices assault his mind.

"Do you see Green Seer, the wind howls!"

"This is the future the Earth grumble beneath him!"

"We shared this vision with you roared the lighting and Thunder!"

"So you can change it!" All the voices roared out in a perfect crescendo.

Who are you? He whispered. Afraid to upset these beings of powers. For if they had such powers to force a vision upon him, The Three Eye Crow himself, then it bests not to upset them, lest he wished to die. Something he knew for sure that was in their realm of achieving.

All of a sudden the multitude of voices from before filled his head. At first, he thought them to be screaming, but calming his mind and listening closer, he recognized them as laughter.

"Are you so blind that you fail to see our magnificence Green seer?" When the Crow fails to answer, the voices once more laugh. Of course, he cannot see us one set of voice said in jest. Just as soon as the laughter begin, it ended. "We are the emissaries of the one true god! "The Lord of Light" sent here to help!

The Crow grew speechless hearing that. True he knew of the "Lord Of Light's" existence-both as Blood Raven, then learning even more from the Children’s-but never in his life did he ever dream of meeting said God’s emissaries. The dreaming part being so literal, he could not help but laugh. It wasn’t until the voices in their perfect harmonious symphony questioned him did he realize he was laughing out loud.

Foolish boy the voices continued. We brought you here, showed you the future, and all you can do is laugh?! I did not mean to offend, the Crows voice grew chagrin, but just as fast it passed away, for his mind began to contemplate on wining the war to come. The Crow began to pace back and forth, mind reeling with new possibilities, soldiers to recruit, especially the two children the visions showed him. How to find the two? He spoke out loud.

Do you believe yourself strong enough to make a difference? The voices interrupted his musings with a condescending tone that had the Crow lurching to a halt.

What do you mean? Replied the Crow.

The condescending tone never left their voices, and if a face could be place to said voices, the Crow believes they would hold nothing but contempt for him.

How long have you held the title of the "Three Eye Crow?" the emissaries of the Lord Light carries on. And what change have you accomplished? How have you halted the others? They continued on, their tone never changing. What differences have you and those Children make? And as the voices lay forth his failings before his feet, the Crow realize he has not accomplished much. For the Others are still as active as before, and if these visions are true, the Others will soon wins the war.

Silence fell between the emissaries and the Crow. Only to be broken with the Crow’s humbling of himself by thanking the emissaries for the visions shared with him.

Thank you?! The voices responded. The Crow could hear the vexation in their tone. After we share these visions with you, thank you are all we receive?! Such a petulant child you are.

I do not understand answered the Crow. Its simple child, you lack the powers to stop the Others, powers we can bestow to you, and all we desire from you is your loyalty. A queer look enter the Crows face. What do you mean loyalty? Simple the emissaries were quick to fire back, become a servant of the one true God, the "Lord Of Light" and abandonment your "Old Gods!"

First there was silence. Next came bewilderment, then the uncontrollable shaking, and finally, finally came the rage. Rage the crow has not felt since he once went by another name when he once was walked as a man. And not caring of the consequences, he roars into the void at the Lord Of Lights emissaries.

How dare you! How dare you bastards insult my gods!? I do not care whom you call yourselves, or serves, ill have none of your blaspheming, and continue to do, I swear by name, I shall make you all pay! The Crow finished that speech with a thump to his chest.

It seems the emissaries were more amused then scared, if their laughter were of any indication.

"Oh!" the voices once more whispered with a sense of amusement in their tone. What can you do little Green seer? You are stuck in this dream we've summoned you in, only we can release you. Do you believe it wise to speak to us as if you're our equal?

"I care not he roared back!" I have thanked you for this dream, or future you have shown me, "but I'll have no more insults of my Gods again, and I swear by them, continue to do so, I shall make you all pay! One way or the other!"

Pay you say. Pay! The emissaries of the Lord Of Light roar and rages on. And as their anger rises, the dreaming world began to shake. The elements themselves grew berserk with the rage. The Earth shook and great fissures were form splitting the dream world asunder, bringing forth dormant volcanoes that shoot fires upon the world that burns all before its path, and a dark heavy smoke rises unto the heavens that covers the world in even more darkness if such a thing was even possible.

The sky darkens with ominous clouds, giving birth to thunder and lightning that brought forth a combination of rain, wind and hail. All three, individually strong enough to destroy houses and flood a land, let alone a poor old man.

Knowing death was imminent, the Crow never once backed down, eyes open wide to the heavens and standing firm in the face of his imminent destruction. His only regret was not being able to change the future he bared witness too.

Instead of death, the Crow felt warmth surrounds him all of a sudden, then full-blown laughter.

"Truly fascinating little one." We choose wisely with you. Even powerless in our realm, you refuse to abandon your Gods, going so far as to challenge our might. Surprise and perplexion lit up in the Crows face, and before he could form any more thoughts, the very air itself shook than shift, and a light came forth so brightly that the Crow even with his eyes close and shielded with his eyes, he could still feel the brightness and sting in his eyes. Finally, opening his eyes, the Crow found himself no longer in the desolated plains, but in a forest with greens as far as the eyes could see, giant trees that block out the sun, with a giant waterfall on the highest peak that runs down and waters the land. The Crow’s eyes took on all the different type of animals-even extinct ones that frolic both on the ground and in the air without a care to them.

Those sights took the Crow’s breath away true. But, it was what dominated the middle of the forest that not only took his breath away, but that brought tears to his eyes-was none other than the giant weirwood tree that eclipsed all.

The Crow fell to his knees, and tears pour forth unabashed, and for the first time in a long time, he was not only at peace, but he was truly happy. Then and there, the Crow knew it was his Gods that came to him. Even with the shifting behind him, the Crow did not turn around, nor move his eyes from the weirwood tree. It was the voices that moved him into action.

Turning on his heels, the Crow eyes fell on four animals. A Stag, a Lion, a Dire Wolf, and a Dragon. Each four beasts magnificence as the next-ethereal looking more so than anything-The crow, already on his knees bows his head in both respect, awe, and servitude to his Gods.

"Raise your head child." The crow heard. The voices were mingled, intertwines together, not able to discern which of the Old Gods were speaking, for none of their mouth moved, but it was the soothing sound of the voice that put him at ease. Gods and man eyes locked. We did not bring you here to have you grovel before us child, we brought you here to speak. Though the mouth never moves, the crow suspected it was not out of their powers to speak to him telepathically.

Ask away your questions child, for we know you have many, and our time is finite.

Why choose the elements first instead of the animals? The crow questioned.

We choose to come to you through the elements only as a test. For if we had chosen animals, you would have known who we were, and you would have wholly agreed to our plan without question. We wanted to test you, for the path that lies ahead cannot be walked upon by the weak willed.

Am I weak willed? The Crow’s voice tone took on a hard edge.

No, they answered in unison. You are many things' child, weak willed is not one of them. We have witnessed your sacrifices to our cause…you and the Children’s. This was but a test to see how far your devotion and faith in us ran, for many have prayed to us but hold no real true faith in us. For their faith are as empty and whimsical as the wind itself.

"Truly young one, we are impress."

"We thank you." The voices once more echoed in perfect sync and harmony.

The Crow felt a feeling of warmth surrounds him, and he knew in his heart, these being were his and the Children’s Gods. He’s only regret was the Children’s absence. For they would have been happy to see the Gods they have worshiped since time immemorial.

As the Crow open his mouth to ask another question, he felt a small shift in the air, and looking around, he realized the forest he was in shrink a tiny beat, and the weirwood tree lost just a little luster.

The Crow turns his eyes back to the Gods, asking for an answer. You see it, don’t you? The small shift? Our powers wane, and we are limited on time.

As the vision shown to you, the Night King will win this war. The future is never certain the Crow was quick to fire back. That’s right young one, the future is never certain, but with the way the cogs are being moved, this future we showed you, is the most likely to occur. How can I stop it he whispered.

The King and Queen are the keys to winning the battle of the Dawn. You must find a way to bring the two together sooner than later. If events are not changed, they will eventually meet, but by then, it would be all too late. The vision showed to you proved that.

How can I bring them together when I know not who they are? I know the queen to be Targaryen, and the King to be Stark from appearances, but that is all I know. Worry not young one, we did not come to you and showed you said possible future without a way of interfering. Just for showing you this, the cogs are ever shifting into a different path.

The Three Eye Crow once more felt the shift as he was once more whisk away. Appearing in a clearing, he looked upon a round tower, surrounded by red mountains. I can assume this is Dorne? But why bring me here he surmises? Before he could question the Old Gods, he felt another shift in the air. Watch young one. For this is where the beginning of the story.

So he watches. He witnesses two group of men, one group he recognizes as Northerners, the other as Kingsguard for their white armor and cloak, and the three headed dragons on their armor. No matter how much he tries, he could not hear what was spoken between the two group, nor was he able to see their faces.

Then the battle begin, and in the end, two Northerners were the only survivors. One of Stark appearance and the other a Crannogmen. Then a scream was heard, and the young Northerner ran for the tower. He watches as a young lady lay bleeding holding a babe in her arms with hair as black as night, and eyes of the darkest gray. Though he knew not what was said between the two, the Crow believed the child would one day plays an important role in the war to come. He watches as the two Northerners burns the eight bodies, and made Cairns with stones from the tower itself as a show of respect to the dead.

The Three Eye Crow watches as the two men leave the tower behind, with a baby, and a dead woman’s body in tow.

"Do you understand now?"

"Some I understand, but most I do not still?" And before he could ask more questions, more visions flooded his mind. He witnessed the tournament of Harrenhal, and the fallout of Rhaegar's folly. His death in the trident, the death of his family, and the destruction of the Targaryen's dynasty.

So Rhaegar in his arrogance started this war because of his lust? Even when he was married and with two children he wanted more? Another man's betrothed? "Why were Targaryens so full of themselves?!" He questions no one in particular.

"Have you learn nothing boy?!" and for a mere second, the smoothness left the voices, and the Crow was able to differentiated between the four. It was the Dragon the Crow was quick to realize that had spoken. And just as quickly, the tones shifted, and the smoothness returned. The Crow was able to discern disappointment in their tone. Was I wrong in my assumption? A contemplating look made its appearance on the Crows old withered face.

"Lyanna Stark The Gods continued on, as if the Crow never uttered a question," never loved Robert. For all of his boast of love for her, he never knew her. A melancholy tone enter their voices when they next spoke. But they loved each other. Those three.

"Three?!" The Crow exclaimed. The Gods continued on once more as if his questions were just words floating in the wind. Rhaegar, Elia, Lyanna. Their love was true and pure. The Crow could not believe what he was being told.

Together, those three would have created an age of true peace if the cogs of fate were not cruel. But atlas, more melancholy entered their voice, it was not meant to be, for they were not the three that were promised.

"Fate truly is a cruel mistress." The Gods lament on.

"Wait! The Crow interrupted. Instead of continue on with this bleak future, when thousands shall die from a useless war, why not change it where Rhaegar and his family lives instead?

Even though their faces never moved, the crow could tell he was being scolded like an adult does a child with no intelligence on what they speak on. But still, he needed to truly knows, why choose what can, and could not be change.

It's simple young one. Like you, we became fixated on one point, and by the time we realize our folly, it was all but too late.

A sigh escapes the Old Gods after that sentence.

Like we said, they begin once more. We too were focus on a singular purpose. In our folly, we believed the threads of fate we glimpsed to be absolute. There the Crow witnessed something he never didn’t think possible. "Do they sound regretful and reproach?" The Old Gods next words proved him true. Like the young ones that serves us, we too are beings of vices. A chuckle left their melded voice, echoing throughout the void they were now in.

A strike of light struck the Crow, and he fell witness to a future that had him smiling. A future we're Rhaegar and his family ruled. The Others destroyed, and the realm at true peace. A future that lasted for generation upon generations. After their death, their children ruled, the peace continues, and even after they were lost in the annals of time as mere stories, the peace continued.

And just like that, the vision ended. You see young one, that was the future we glimpsed, and in our hubris, we failed to see the thread of fate ever slowly changing.

For everything, they've showed him, most made no sense, and he needed answers, not more puzzle. So with that in mind, and strength in himself he begins.

I understand the Crow begins. But you've not answered the obvious question. You clearly can see and manipulate the future, then why not change it? Why not go and save Rhaegar and his love ones before death comes for them?

This time, the voices become more exasperated and forlorn. We can only glimpse the future, not truly change it. Once the thread of fate are set, they are beyond even our powers. This future we shared with you concerning the young King and Queen is just the beginning of the thread of fate taking shape. If none is done, then said future shall become absolute. But if we were to interfere, as we are now, then the threads shall change as it moves forward.

"Yes!" The Crow exclaims. I understand now. A look of contemplation enters his face. The future is absolute if nothing is done. But, if we were to tweak the thread of fate while they are still in infancy, then it can be change for the better. The only reason Rhaegar's cannot be changed is because his thread and all those align with him are absolute.

“Yes!” The Gods gleefully exclaimed.

So tell me my Gods, are we changing the future as we speak now? Yes, the Gods responded. Little by little we are. Though right now, they are naught but a small ripple, that if we are to stop, would hold no significance for the longer future. But if we are to continue to tweak the threads, no matter how small, then we hope for long and lasting ripple.

Remember young one, “The Dragon must have three heads!” Rhaegar, Elia and Lyanna were the three catalyst for the prophecy. Their children were to be the promise ones, but with this future, the prophecy has now been pass to the two young rulers.

Then that boy and the Targaryen girl are two of the head?

“Yes” the voices interrupted. The Crow could feel joy in their tone now. Finally, you are comprehending the truth.

But wait? “What of the third Dragon’s head? From my understanding, the young King and Queen are the two heads, then what roles do Rhaegar's other two children shall be in the prophecy?

They play no part in the game young one. The Gods answered with such finality in their tone had the Crow shaking to his very core. And a part of him, the part that he thought he buried years pass once more came forth. I'll not let these two innocent children die because of the folly of their father he all but roar.

Silence! The Old Gods roared back. Do you truly believe us so heartless that we would casually toss aside the innocence if we could help it?! Their voice continued to roar as each word spew forth. We've looked into the threads of fate, and nothing changes concerning those two, death is their answer!

The Crow fell upon his knees in the void-less space, and his body shook with great shaking sobs. And his Gods watches as he cries for his family, and they allow it of him, and all they could do was to embrace and sooth him.

As they sooth him, they continue speaking. If we do not act young one, more death shall follow. More innocent like those two shall be lost to the endless and mindless violence’s of man. Then all the realm shall suffer. We are not so heartless young one. Truly we tried, we nearly exhausted all of our powers to find a way to save those two, but it was all for naught. If we were not so weaken....maybe we could have delved deeper, but weaker we are, and time is short.

The Crow understood the Gods point of view. But it meant naught to him, when his family were being murdered left and right. Especially innocent children that should not have to suffer the sins of their fathers.

Listen young one, if we stay here, if we stay static, then all of our sacrifices shall be for naught. More innocence shall die for naught, then the realms themselves shall meet its end when the Others strike. The Old Gods voice took on a pleading tone. We beseech you child of man, rise and fight, let not their death be in vain. For only in death can new life be born. The Gods said cryptically.

The Three Eye Crow wiped his tears, and rose to his feet. A new determination in him, and before he could question his Gods of their cryptic answer, they continue on.

We are becoming too weak, and to fast after looking through the threads of fate, and by coming to you and showing you all this has put an even greater strain on us, and weaken us even further, and we must share more with you young one. The Gods whisper. Now, as the Crow pays more intentions to his Gods, even when their voices were melded in harmony, he could feel the strain form them.

Before the Crow could ask more question, he felt the same rush as before when a vision was being thrust upon him.

Once more, the Crow was awarded a vision of the young Queen being spirited away from the Stags and Lions. While the young King was taken and named Bastard of his uncle, for his protection.

Listen well young one, this is crucial, for if you fail, all is lost. Our powers are waning, the stronger the Night King grows, the more he desecrated the lands, the weaker we become. Once the boy grows, you must take him under your wing and train him. Teach him all you can. Bestows upon him knowledge in all aspect, do not skip one for the other. Turn him into a true warrior of mind, body and spirit, but most importantly of heart. For it is heart that shall be his greatest weapon. And it shall be said heart that shall help shape the Queen into the leader she’s destined for.

What of the young Queen then? With her being spirited away across the narrow sea where I hold no power, how can I teach her?

That....is unfortunate young one, if we were at our peak, we could have accomplished something, but atlas we are not. So for now, keep an eye on the young King. Worry not of the young Queen, for it shall do you no good. Though her life will be harsh, she shall be reunited with the young King. We shall set certain plans into motions to make it so. The life she was to have without our interference shall not happen, not entirely, they conclude after a beat of silence.

When can I bring him too me?

Bring him when he reaches the age of ten.

Why so late in life? If am to bring him to our cause, would it not be best to start at a far earlier age? An age where I can truly mold him to our cause?

No! They roar. What you speak off is blasphemy. The Crow could feel the anger and rage in each word spoken by the Old Gods. We do not need dolls to mindlessly serve us, we need a warrior free to think, a warrior that is willing to do good, not because he is manipulated, but because it is what he chooses!

Forgive me my Gods, for my foolishness. That was all the Crow could say, after his folly. No, it is us that ask for your forgiveness young one, for we have seen what man can and will blindly do when they perceived it is what their Gods ask of them. You young one have served us for far too long, and have given up far too much for us. So forgive us, for losing our heads. The Old Gods tone was one of a parent to a child, when said parent fail their children.

All is forgiven my Gods.

Thank you! They responded.

The reason you are to bring him here at such an age is because he shall be under the tutelage of Ned Stark. He shall grow with the honors the Starks are known for, and that shall be your way in. The Stark preaches honor, and they are known for that honor. In all the realm, few families, or man hold honor as high as them. But more than honor, Ned Stark shall teach him of us, he shall teach him of duty, respect, loyalty, family, and the bonds that must be shared between friends and families. Something we feared young one, most has been lost too you this far north in your isolation.

Silenced reign between the Gods and the Crow that served him, until the Gods once more broke it.

So you understand what must be done young one?

Aye. The Crow answered in his gravelly voice. I shall not fail you now we've been given this chance. It is not us you should fear of failing young one. The Gods responded in a somber tone. For if you fail in these endeavors, all shall be lost. Though there are others to play a role in stopping The Long Night, the King and the Queen roles are the most important.

Now, come. We have more visions to share with you.

The Crow watches a battle taking place. Though the men were few and outnumbered, that mattered little, their enemies were far weaker and less skill compared to them who breathed and lived on the edge of war. It seems he was once more transported to Dorne.

Magnificent are they not? Said the Old Gods. Few men in this realm can match one in combat. Together, they are near unstoppable. Shame this shall be there resting site. Imagine if they were to survive young one? What they would bring to the King and Queen, would it not be an amazing sight?

Am I meant to interfere then? Save them?

The Crow thought his question would go unanswered, and when he finally except no answer would come, the Gods gave him one.

As we've said before young one, our powers waned, and the longer we look and tried to change the threads of fate, the weaker we become. But yes, we wish to save them. Their blade would be instrumental to the King and Queen. But most importantly to the Queen in Essos. They shall protect her from those who desires to use and hurt her.

I thought all those whose align with Rhaegar shared one fate? The Crow questioned aloud.

Not necessarily. All mortals fate are of their own making, but sometimes, their fate can become interwoven with others if they stay the course. These three fates are not absolute young one, for if they were to leave, and stop fighting, they would live.

Very well! How may they be save then? The Crow questioned. Use your eyes in the skies, and with these amulets bestows with magic of glamour shall help. A vision of magical pendant made of silver with a glowing red ruby embezzled in the center flashes in the Crow's mind. Once you wake, perform the necessary ritual, and use your crows to bring them where they need be. This man shall know what to do, another memory entered the Crows mind. The man was small for his height, but it was the eyes that struck the Crow. For they held fire and knowledge beyond most men.

Like you young one, he is a true follower of us, so have his family since time immemorial, and since time immemorial, we have bestowed upon his line the gift of the Greenseer.

Will he truly help us?

Yes the Gods answers. His love for Lyanna is as strong as the love he holds for his people. Remind him of that love. For you see, she protected and defended him when others laugh and insulted him. For them to survive, he shall be instrumental. Bring the medallions to him, speak with him and his dreams, explain, convince him to our cause, and if he chooses, allow him his part in the game.

Why go through all this when it concerns the boy? Why not go straight to Ned Stark himself? A sigh escapes the Old Gods. Going to Ned Stark would be the right answer true, but once this war begins, Ned Stark will be too distraught, his heart close to all but the returning of his sister. And once he holds the boy, not even our pleas shall sway him...for the promise he shall make to his sister far outweighs his dedication to us.

A pained look enters the Crows eyes. It did not take long for the Gods to ask to share his thoughts. Though they could have taken the answers by simply entering his mind, the Old Gods always believed in the freedom of all. This being no different, even in the realm of dreams were their domain lies strongest.

It's the young Queen that worries me so. Why not glamour her as well? We have the needs. Why force her to the east?

It's true we have the need, but remember young one, the Queen has a brother and guardians with her. We do not have the power to glamour all. Worse yet, where would they live in the seven kingdoms that the Stags and Lions won't locate? No young one, it's far easier to let her escape across the narrow seas. The blades, If they survive this coming ordeal shall be her teachers and guardians. But more importantly, the Queens must cross the seas, for it is there her true path shall begin. So fear not, and let not your mind wanders too far, les you lose focus on the now. Like the young King, she shall face many adversities, but it is those adversities that's shall help shape her into a good, and rightness queen. And know this, we need her to be good for the realm to survive.

It's time to go back young one, the Old Gods exhale. It seems such a sentence was taking a heavy toll on them.

We've kept you here far too long, and the longer we keep you here, the harder it will be for you to leave, and we ourselves need rest. And in a blinding light, the Crow felt himself falling.

The Three Eye Crow opens his eye, only to see himself back in his vine like throne, surrounded by the children of the forest, watching him with a look of worried upon their visage.

How long have I dreamt? One the Children closest to him was quick to answer, and the Crow surprise was evident for all. You dreamt for near three moons young one. We feared you dived to far and unable to find your way back. All our efforts in vain to reign you back fell on death ears.

Three moons?! The Crow exclaimed. True surprise evident in his tone and face.

What happened? The Children closest to him asked.

So the Crow set out and tell them of his dream. The Crow watches a look enter their eyes, a look he had not seen from them in a long time washes over them, a look of happiness, a look of a better tomorrow, a look that he knew mirrors his own withered face.

How do we bring the young King not yet born to us? Question another of the Children. And why wait so long?

The Old Gods desires it so my friends.

When the time comes, I shall use dreams to speak to him. Though he will be frightened, I shall share with him dreams of the future, I shall show him the future I have seen if he not acts. And I truly believe that shall be enough to guarantee his willingness to help.

According to the Old Gods, our young King shall possess strong morals of righteousness, and honor, even for a child. Being raised as a Stark, such fundamentals shall be integral to his very being. That shall be our key, that shall be our way in.

None of that matters young one. Answered one the Children. The only way to teach him is to have him here with us. If he is to be ready, we need to train him personally, and I do not need my foresight to know that this Eddard Stark would allow us to take his child willingly. Fake or real.

Hmm, the Crow hums. That is too true. Yes, i do not see Eddard Stark willingly handing us his nephew over when in the future he shall claim the boy as his.

Well then, it seems we've reach an impasse then.

Too true said the Crow. But, he continues on. Worrying about the young King and Queen not yet born shall be put to rest for now. For now, we have more pressing matters that must be handled, far sooner than later I am afraid. Three moons have been lost already. With that he looked to the children to confirm their previous insight. With their acknowledgment, the Crow continues on. The Old Gods have shown me others that shall play a role in the coming war. Others we must rescue and recruit before death lays her cold fingers on them, and items of magics that must be forged before the war ends to help those few.

Like a spark, a thought entered the Crows head. Why tell the children of the visions, why not just shares it with them instead? With that in mind, the Crow waves the children over. Touch the limbs and let me share the full vision with you all. As the Children's finger touch the branches, their minds meld, memories exchanged, and all became one.

"Happiness was the most apparent feeling they felt. For it been far too long since they heard the voices of their Gods. Horror was next felt when they witness what the Crow was shown. Then clarity came to them. Their Gods had not forsaken them, the Gods they worshiped still watches over them. And now, even in their weaken state, they came to them, they've bestowed them a fighting chance, a chance to save the realm, to make things right."

Leaving the dream realm, the Crow and the children begin to set the plans in motion.

How long will it take to create the amulets and to imbue them with magic? Question The Crow.

We possess the necessary ingredient here to forge the amulets. Answers the one closest to him. But, another one of the Children continued as if they shared one thought. Though we possess the necessary ingredients, it shall take quite an amount of time to create the amulets. But, I fear we must proceed with caution when it comes to imbuing the amulets with the necessary magic. Continued another one of the Children. "Too little, it becomes useless. Too much, we risked a negative reaction, and we cause an overload with the rubies. With our magic weakening, we must stride with the utmost care. Four months' time young one, we shall have all six ready for you.

Good the Crow answers. With the war at its beginning, I must find and convince him to help us.

The Crow closes his eyes, and search for him. Opening himself to the world of dream walking, it was not long till he found the man he was searching for. The Crow was surprise in the ease of it. He was like a beacon in the dream world, unmistakable to miss. He shines brightly for all to see. "The Old Gods weren't lying when they claimed he was blessed with the Greenseer."

The Crow was once more surprise when he readily accepted to help his cause. Why help me? Question the Crow. How do you know this is not but a mere dream? Worse yet, you do not seem surprise to see me? Continues the Crow with creases and a frown on his withered face. It took a while for him to form the proper words, but all the while the Crow watches him. And when he finally answers, he surprised the Crow. All my life he began, I knew I possessed certain abilities, one of them being the ability of dream walking. I could never control them, but sometimes I dreamt of the future. Sometimes they come to pass, and sometimes they do not. These abilities of mine, are a gift from the Old Gods, whom my family have worshiped since the beginning, and we've been taught to always listen to our dreams. For three nights pass, I dreamt of you coming to speak to me. That's why I am not surprise.

The Crow smile, that is good my friend, less time I have to spend on convincing you this are all real. Now listen young one, for we mustn't waste time. So the Crow detail the plan to his new comrade, and showed him the future vision the Old Gods they serve gifted them.

His only sadness came when he had to lie to his lord. And tears flows when he found Lyanna will soon pass. He vehemently argues with the Crow into making sure Lyanna lives, but in the end, he accepted that not all fate could be change.

In four months’ time my friend, I shall send my crows to you. The amulets shall be with them, and the rest shall be in your hands. I shan't fail you he responded with conviction.

"Do not die!" Were the last words he heard before the being known as the Three Eye Crow disappear.

Waking up back on his throne made of trees a few hours later, the Crow told the children of the development of the Greenseer. So we have his help then? Yes, answers the Crow. He'll help. I'll admit, he surprised me. I never thought I'll meet a man that had such faith in the Gods, and with blood that carries such power of the gift.

"It's a shame, there are so few like you young one." Said one of the Children in a solemn tone.

 

-FOUR MONTHS LATER-

 

The Crow watches from above as his crows carries, and bestowed the amulet to the greenseer. The plan, though not perfect went far better than he thought possible. All three blades were saved. Even sustaining life threatening injuries, they would survive to fight another day. Though, it will take a while to heal-heal they shall-the greenseer would make sure of it.

The blades are now safe? Question one of the Children. They are my friends. Answers the Crow with a smile on his withered face. The greenseers loyal few who knows of his gift shall bring the blades to his home, so they can heal. As we speak now, the three are being transported, and the glamour still in effect.

Tell me young one, have you thought on how to convince those three? It was easy to convince the greenseer, for he believes in the Old Gods, but those three have no Gods they truly believe in. Once the amulet are removed from them, and the sleeping spell lift, and when they wake, they might just attack those who are transporting them, no matter their condition, and all this will be for naught if said scenario plays out?

The Crow was quick to reassured them. Worry not my friends, I was adamant to the greenseer not to remove the amulet unless he was present, and he assured me, the ones who are transporting the blades are loyal to a fault, they shan't go against his wishes.

On convincing those three, I believe the best way is to speak to them through their dreams. Share with them the future that shall come to pass if nothing is done. I believe they shall help in the end. Even if for some reason they think it nothing but a dream, once they wake and see where they are, and speak of their dreams amongst each other, and realize the similarities, they will come to believe. Then, we shall tell them of the young King and Queen's role in the battle for the dawn.

What is it young one? One of the Children ask the Crow once they saw the concern on his face.

There is one more individual I believe we should made aware of the changes that are to yet come.

Are you sure? Better yet, can he be trusted?

Aye, I am. And yes, he can be trusted. With him on our side, our chances are far better. In my old life, not only was he a true friend, but his counsel was paramount. I may have been called a great warrior and tactician when I served the watch, but it was his counsel that kept me from straying too much.

But will he believe you? One of the Children pushes on. It’s been years since you disappeared from the wall young one. For all we know, he might believe you naught but an apparition. An apparition come to torment his last days on this plane.

We shall see answered the Crow as he allows himself to fall into the dream world and began searching for his old friend.

Waking up, the Crow told the Children’s the good news. With a new ally-an ally the Crow knew could be counted on-his heart grew a little less heavy with the burden of the world.

The conversation was soon changed to the whereabouts of the true "enemy." It seems the Old Gods spoke true. Begin one of the Children. Two of us, he continued went searching for the Others and their mindless minions, all was quiet. Neither one to be seen. What could this mean then? The Crow hums. I know not the full reason they are so quiet. But my friends, we must be careful. From now on, no more venturing on the outside, unless it is absolutely necessary. We've been giving this chance, we are all that is left, we cannot risk losing even one of us to them. When the time comes, we shall need all the magic to prepare the young King to fight the Others. So promise me, the Crow implores with sincerity, do not go looking for them, and put yourselves in danger.

It was the closest Children to the Crow that answered the Crow's plea with a playful note in her voice. Worry not young one, we shall stay in the caves where it's safe. For even now, after living in this fortress like maze for many a year, we've yet to explore all of its roots. But, Just as fast, the playfulness left her voice, replaced with a being that have seen far too much, that have lived far too long. We shall continue to search for the Others with our eyes in the skies and land, we cannot stand still while we wait for the young King to join us.

Very well. The Crow replies. We shall continue to keep an eye for their movements.

The Crow look upon the Children of the forest, and a fire like never before made its home in his belly, a fire that reflected in his one good eye. A fire not fell since he held her in his arms so long ago, that it felt like a different life. His withered face grew hard with determination.

"My friends, his voice boomed among the cave walls, we have been given a chance to save this world. A chance to make right, a chance to end the nightmare that begin millennial ago." He's withered voice turn to but naught a whisper, but it might have well been a shout for his voice resonated amongst the walls of the cave.

"The war begins!"


	2. A New Song

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                                                                                               **A Song Of Wolves And Dragons**  
   **HouseOfEl**

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**  Chapter 1: A New Song **

 

******Summary:** ** **

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 The young child and the crow meets in his dreams. Decisions are made, and two new players enters the circle.

 

**Notes:**

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 I've come to understand that writing and posting stories are two different beast. Still having trouble transferring from word to this site. Especially with italics. Still learning the editing part of this, So any tips will  be appreciated.

 

 

                                                                                                                **II**

**A New Song**

 

  
    **The Young Bastard Of Winterfell**

  
Come Jon, have no fear from me young child, the voice whispered. You have been chosen to save the world it continued. You are one of the key few that can stop the Long Night.  
Who are you? The young child question the void he found himself in once more.

  
Silence was his answer, just like the many other times he would come to find himself in this void.

  
Before Jon could ask another question, he was force to wake from his slumber. Looking out his window, he could still see the moon high in the night sky. The dreams always ended like this, him waking up in a pile of sweat in the middle of the night and unable to fall back asleep.

  
These strange dreams have become a regular occurrence since his fifth name day. At first they came once or twice a cycle, but on his eight name day, the dreams came more frequently, till he dreamt them once a night now. So much of a staple they've become, now he fears to even sleep. And lately, no matter how much he tries to stay awake, he always ended falling asleep, tired or not. At least one hour before sleep would comes to claim him, a musical note would always make it to his ears...like tonight, the sweet melody started low, and like before, it grew into a crescendo-annoying, but soothing was the tune-one time, Jon had questioned Robb of the melody being played, and Robb had look upon him as if he were queer. Since then, Jon knew to keep quiet.

  
Knowing it useless for sleep would now eludes him, Jon left his bed not even caring his sleep clothe were still damp from sweat, for what to come next would make it redundant to wipe himself. Jon grab the wooden sword he began keeping next to his bed since the dreams became more frequent. Grabbing the blade and taking a two handed grip, he began going through the form Ser Rodrick taught him and Robb. The movements were simple, performing a combination of quick jabs, side swipe, downward strike and upward strikes, and lunges. Then combining them in one fluid movement. Simple moves that Ser Rodrick taught them. Simple moves Ser Rodrick claimed that were the basic fundamentals of the sword of any swordsman-from the  mediocre, to the greatest of fighters.

  
With the frequency of these dreams, Jon knew something had to be done. For as long as he could remembered, he has kept the dreams to himself, not even telling his brother and best friend Robb, let alone their lord father. Fear of being label once more, for he knew what it meant to be a 'Bastard' now thanks to Theon Greyjoy. Theon in his way to insult him, accidently let it slip what a bastard truly meant. " _Then again, knowing Theon, maybe he did it purposely_. After all, the Greyjoy was heartless when he so chooses. No matter Jon spoke out loud. What's done is done, no need to dwell in things that cannot change.

  
Though he hated the Greyjoy, he silently thanked him for opening his eyes to the world. Even Robb, his brother and best friend have called out his bastard status. Though it was all innocent on Robb's part, doesn't mean it didn't hurt. They were playing conquerors, and he told Robb he would be the one to rule Winterfell, and Robb answered that since he's a bastard, he was not allowed to hold lands or titles. That would have been the last of it if not for Theon Greyjoy obnoxious laugh.

  
Though Robb later apologized, and all was forgiven between the two brothers, in the back of his mind, it stayed with him, and circumstances once more shape him.  
By the time Jon was done with his basic sword training, the sun was creeping from behind the horizons, and he was sweating from his exertions. Filling up the basin with water, he went about cleaning himself and ready himself for the day to come.

  
After dressing in a basic normal wear that was both loose for movement and to hold back the cold, Jon left his room and headed for the kitchen to break his fast. Half way into his fast, Robb and Theon joined him at his table, and not a minute later, he wanted to wring the Greyjoy's neck. Jon honestly didn't Know how Robb could stand Theon. In Jon's mind, Theon was not only an idiot, he was also loud, obnoxious and an overall arse.

  
Finishing their foods, all three heads out to meet up with maester Luwin in the library for their daily lessons. Though Jon hated the lessons, particularly the part that dealt with the politics of Westeros, he knew how important that aspect would be to Robb when he became the Lord of Winterfell. Listening to maester Luwin drone on about the banner man of the north that serves their lord father, Jon allowed his mind to wanders to the heroes of old. Jon would never admitted to most, but his four favorite heroes were not men's of the north like most. No, his heroes were men from the south, or the far east in most cases. It did not mean he cared for the south or their politics and ways-for he once heard  his father complain to his lady wife, but he did enjoyed learning of the warriors they gave birth too.

  
So ever since he learned his letters form the maester, he devoured all the books in winterfell's library, though the books were few, and the stories scarce, they still held plenty enough to fill a child's mind and curiosity. It was those stories that kept him sane some days and nights when the title of the "bastard of Winterfell" grew to heavy for him to carry on. Though Jon love his half siblings, he knew he would ever be known as Snow first and foremost to all who heard his name.

  
Thinking of his heroes, he could  not help the small smile on his face.

  
First was Ser Arthur Dayne. It was said the man was unmatched in combat. With his legendary blade Dawn at his side, a sword that was said to have being forged from a meteor itself, and the glow of a star that would shine away any darkness. Said blade was said to be the equivalence of Valyrian steels. The man was a force of nature if the stories were to be true. But what made the man truly dangerous, was his  ability to master dual wielding, something till this day the few brave souls, or foolish enough to delved in that particular sword style were mediocre at best. According to Jory, when Jon questioned him if anyone could duel wield like Ser Arthur, he proclaimed Ser Arthur was a prodigy with the blade, a man that comes around once a generation.

  
"(How father manage to beat him in single combat is a mystery to me still)." Those were thoughts hidden away from everyone, for Jon knew the look he would have received if spoken aloud. Worse yet, it would only give lady Stark more fuel to fan the flames of her not wanting him in winterfell. He could imagine what she would say-" _look at him Ned, look at how your bastard continues to insult you by claiming you could not have not beaten Arthur Dayne in combat! What more proof do you need to know he's no good, and all he desires are your children rights_?"

  
The next was Daeron the Young Dragon. The man at only fourteen conquered Dorne, something not even Aegon and his Sister-wives with their dragons were able to accomplished. Though he's victory was sort lived, he proved there were no obstacle that could not be overcome if a sound mind was determined enough.

  
Next was Aemon the Dragon Knight. The man was everything a knight should ever be, on the same pedestal with the like of Arthur Dayne in virtue. Choosing the white cloak when his love was refused to him. His sacrifices concerning Daeron by throwing himself in front of an assassins arrow, then carrying Baelor from the viper's pit. The man's life was sacrifice after sacrifice, and he was loved by both nobles, but more specifically the smallfolks.

  
Then, there was Ser Brynden Rivers, better known as "Lord Bloodraven". True he admired all four of those man, Ser Arthur Dayne for his swordsmanship and honor. Daeron for being such a young accomplished conqueror. Aemon the Dragonknight for his honor and sacrifices, but it was Ser Rivers that he held the most respect for. Maybe it was because bastard blood flowed through both of their veins, and maybe that's why he felt such a kinship with a man he only ever read about in books. But the man it seems never let being a bastard stopped him, for he was elevated to “Master of Whisperers, and then as the Hand Of The King.” He served two Kings in his time in King's Landing. It was once believed he was the one truly ruling Westeros. With all that power, he never tried to become King. And when the time came, he choose duty over his own honor. " _Like father did with me_ ")Jon muse sardonically. Even in exile as a man of the Watch, he still continued to serve the realm, and just six years short, he went on to become “The Lord Commander of the Night Watch.”

  
“ _Maybe that's what I should do_ ” Jon muse. Join the Night Watch and become something more than just the ''bastard of Winterfell." Lady Stark would be proud he couldn't help but say aloud. Bless the Old Gods his words were spoken too softly for the others to hear. Last thing he needed was more probing.  But before Jon could think more on it, he was rouses from his daydream by Maester Luwin asking him to name the Bannerman of the North. The chagrin look from Jon was quickly replaced with a look of annoyance when Theon begin to laugh in his obnoxious way.

  
Maester Luwin, though old and frail, and an easy going man in all aspect, was still a man not to cross when it concerns his lessons. And Theon now held his attention. The old maester eyes burn with a fire while he peers at Theon, and a part of Jon rejoice just a bit in Theon's lack of knowledge.

  
So tell me Theon, Maester Luwin begins, do you know all the bannerman in the North? Jon watches as Theon kept quiet, head down in shame. Before you laugh at someone else of their lack of knowledge, maybe it should be best that you are knowledgeable first grumble the old maester. Not waiting for an answer, maester Luwin dismissed the three. Off you go he spoke, his soft voice now returns, I believe you three have training with Ser Rodrick.

  
Gear up, grab a sword and fall in yell Ser Rodrick. After gearing up and all three falling in rank with the rest of the trainees, Jon watches with keen eyes as Ser Rodrick survey them. The man even in his advanced age was still build  like a bull. Only his white hair and wrinkles telling you of his age. While his eyes were the eyes of a warrior forge on and off the field of battle, and the way he carried himself letting all knows a predator walks amongst you. It's something Jon's observed when he look at the old warriors, from his lord father, to the lowest of squires that have seen actually combats.

  
Many things can be said of the man. He was harsh, grumpy, a hard arse on and off the training yard, but none can say he was not deserving of his title as “Master of Arms of Winterfell.” Alright lad Ser Rodrick roared, today we're to practiced our stances. A groan of disappointment was let out by all the trainees, Jon himself included.

  
"Quiet!” he roared. His booming voice quieted all trainees, even some of the common folk stopped for a mere second to look at the training yard. before they dismissed them and returns to their tasks.

  
You foolish lads thinks battles are won with fancy sword swings, do you think the greatest swordsmen’s started off great? "Well?!" He questioned when no answer was both forth. Only to roar a second later with a resolute "No!" when one of the trainees was stupid enough to give one. They started with the basics, and because you idiots piss me off, I want five hundred swings of each stances. None said anything, les they wanted more.

  
Now watch carefully as I demonstrate these four stances. First stance is the middle guard, second is the high guard, third stance is the open low stance, and the final stance is the hanging guard. Not only do I want each stance executed one thousands time each, once you’re done, go to the archery range and let loose five hundred arrows each. None shall leave till the last man is finished!

  
Not giving a second thought les more was added, Jon and the others went about executing what was required.

  
By the time they were done and let loose the five hundred arrows on their target, it was already sundown since their training had began at midday, and with his lack of sleep and early training, Jon was ready for sleep, no matter how much he dreaded it.

  
Jon was so tired that not even the hunger he felt, nor the fact he was still drenched with sweat was enough to stop him from retiring to his room and falling to sleep the second his head touch his pillow.

  
Jon woke up once more in a cold sweat. "That same damn dream Jon curse aloud.” Turning his head when he heard a noise coming from his window, Jon lay his eyes on a crow. What unnerved him so we're the red eyes that we're staring back at him, those same red eyes that plagued his dreams. All this time, he believed what he saw in his dreams were just that, dreams. Now, sitting in his sweat drench clothes, and looking at the crow perched on his window still, he knew for a fact that his dreams, no matter how he wished they were just vivid imaginations of a child...were indeed real. That unnerved him far more than anything he thought possible, and at the same time, put his mind at ease. _It would seem I am not as crazy as I thought. Unless this is still a dream_?

  
He pinched himself, and when the pain hit and he was still looking upon the crow, he knew he was awake

  
Looking at the crow’s silence stare, the uneasiness Jon felt in his stomach grew even more. What are you? Jon questioned. When no answer came, Jon let loose his anger. What are you he seethed once more? Since I was five, you've haunted my dreams, and when I thought I was going crazy, you show up, and yet you refuse to answer me. Why? Jon then let out a laugh. A laugh so unlike him, for if anyone knew the boy, would have though him queer, or mad, or both.

  
I am truly going crazy now, for I am talking to a damn crow I dreamt off, and expecting it to answer me. Not only will I be known as the bastard of Winterfell, I shall also be known as the crazy one that happens to be the bastard of Winterfell.

  
Then like a bolt of lightning, he remembered something that the crow told him in the dream, for it was the first time that the dreams changed ever since they started. Jon remembered the dream crow telling him if he needed answered, just to follow the red eyes crow. To not be afraid, for he meant him no harm. Now that same red crow was now perched on his open window still.

  
Jon left his bed and carefully reach for the bird. All the while the crow watches him as he approaches. Jon not waiting to scare the crow slowly reaches for the bird, and gently lay his hand on said bird. Jon was surprise when the crow stayed put, and allowed him to caresses his head and feathers, even leaning forward into the caress. The child in him was both scared and exited. While he continues to caresses the crow, Jon look in his eyes and whispered, show me where to go.

  
As if that was a sign, the Crow unfurled his wings and took flight. Jon watches as the Crow flew in the direction of the Godswood, and not even thinking of the consequences, Jon rushes out his room to follow said bird. Jon move through Winterfell as silent as their name sake sigil, lest he be caught by a wandering guard, questioned and be sent back to his room. Worse yet be taken to his Lord father and Lady Stark. Jon wanted neither of the two scenario to come to pass.

  
Exiting through the servants door, Jon kept to the darkness not wanting to be seen by the sentries. Reaching the gate to the Godswood, Jon spots the crow on the highest point on the gate watching him. He hesitated for a mere second to contemplate his next choice. True Jon thought to himself, by opening this door and going through it, he knew his life would never be the same. He could still turn back and none shall be the wiser. He hesitated once more, then his mind flashed to his four heroes in the lore of Westeros. _Did those four cower before adversities placed in front of them_? Jon thought to himself. _No_! His mind scream at him, _they faced them head on, like the warriors they were._

  
With his mind made up, Jon push the gates open and walk through its doors. Following the crow, Jon navigated himself through the Godswood, and after walking for a nearly fifteen minutes, Jon came upon the Heart Tree and the lake that surounds it and watches as the crow lands on its branches.

  
Jon look upon the Heart Tree and crow, trying to decipher what next to do. When nothing came, the child, though he was mature for a child of nine lost its temper.

  
Now what? Jon ask the Crow. Since my fifth name day you've plagued my dreams with these so called visions the young child continues. You came to me, you told me to follow you crow, but here we are, yet you say nothing more too me!

  
The staring continues between the boy and crow. This is stupid Jon screamed after waiting for close to an hour for the crow to do anything but stare him down. You know what? Jon seethed. I don't care anymore. As the boy turn to leave, his ears caught a sound in the wind. "Jon Snow" his name was whispered.

  
Jon whipped his head so fast that he feared he might have hurt himself, and looking to the crow, and with a scared voice. Did...did you say my name? Jon question the crow. Once more, silent reign between them, and an hour pass with no more response or whispers. All the while, the child watches the crow with piercing eyes, and the crow watches him with its red eyes. Jon could swore, the way the bird turns his head, he was just mocking him.

  
Feeling tired, and not wanting to return to the castle les his named was called again, Jon walked to the Heart tree and lay his back on one of his roots and allows slumber to take him.

"Wake up Jon Snow." A gravely voice whispered in hos ears. With a start, the young child came awake. Instead of waking up in the Goods Woods, he found himself in a void less space so dark that he could not even see his own body parts. He's heart speed up, and panic kicked in, and before he could come up with a plan, or raise his hands to defend himself from this unknown threat, the blackness receded, and before him lay an endless sea of white. It was nothing but snow, pure white snow covered the land as far as the eye can see.

  
Jon took it all in with awe, he was so in awe, everything else disappeared from his mind for the moment. Born and raised in the North, he never saw snow as pure and beautiful as this. Beautiful isn't it? A voice said next to him. He was so stricken that it took the young child a full second to realize he wasn't alone. Jon jumped to the side and raising his sword arm turn to face the stranger. Before him stood and old man with hair as white as snow, a face full of winkles and dresses from the neck down in a full length black robe so long that it pool on the ground. The two face each other, Jon with a scowl and scared looked upon his visage, and the old man with a small smile tugging at his lips. "Don't be scare Jon Snow. The old man said. Smile still firmly attach while he watches the child. Jon's eyes squinted even more while contemplate what to do next. " _If worse come to worse, you can still run, he's an old man, you should be able to outpaced him easily. And if he were to someone catches you, and his frail form, you could still over powered him."_  Arm still held firmly in front of him. Jon surveys the old man that stood a before him.

  
Who are you? Jon ask with a voice of naught but false bravado. The old man all but smirk at the young child. I am the Three Eye Crow young one, and welcome to my world!" "The World of dreams!"

  
The Crow watches as the many emotions plays on the boy's young face. The Crow continues before Jon could question him. I know you have many questions, but now is not the time to answer them all. But your dreams, those I can answer.

  
"Was everything you show me real then?" Jon ask in a small voice.

  
Yes, am afraid they are. The Night King and his army of the dead will decimate Westeros, and the World that lies beyond, les we stop it. Few that we are. The Crow went on to show the young child, with just a mere wave of his hand, the snow turns from white to red. Red, as far as the eye can see, and before Jon could ask why the snow turned red, he witness the devastation. Before him, the ground was littered with bodies, bodies of man, women, and all type of beast. The red it seems was the blood of the fallen. So much was the blood, even the pure white snow was unable to overcome it.

  
Jon turns, trying to run, trying to denied what he was witnessing, but he was surrounded in every directions by bodies of the dead, and unable to hold it no longer, he fell to his knees and hands and discharged his stomach in the already distorted snow. Jon further let loose his stomach again when he felt the squishiness under his knees and hands, knowing what he was touching. Rising hastily, he tries to wipe the blood form his hands, but nothing seems to work. The more he would scrubs his hands on his clothes, the worse it became.

  
I'm going to be sick again said Jon while raising his head upward and watching more snow falls. For it seems, no matter the amount of snow, red was still dominant. " _Can one even be sick in this dream realm_?" He thought, even after he had previously empty his stomach.

  
Closing his eyes, and knowing the Crow still near. Jon questioned him.

  
"Is this all true…or just a mere nightmare my young mind is dreaming off?

  
"Yes young one, all is true!” I am sorry to say it is no mere dream. The finality of those words shook Jon to his core. The old man continued on non-pulsed. The Night King and his armies shall win if we do not act. There will be no coming back from this devastation. He shall bring a winter so cold that nothing will grow for there will be no fertile land left. The icy winds that follows him shall bring forth a cold that seeps into the bones itself. Jon with eyes still close, continues to listen to the Crow. He felt no need to run anymore, for he knew there was nowhere to run to in this realm. So he listens to the old man words, but his eyes shot open when the old man spoke the next words.

  
You my boy are one of the keys to stopping him, but we must hurry and start your training as quickly as possible.

  
"What do you mean by that?" Jon's answer was quick and to the point, so focus he was on the Crow, he failed to realize they were no longer in the red snow field, covers in the bodies of man and beast alike. But the Crow continued on as if he was not interrupted.

  
Are you scared child? There is no reason to pretend otherwise. Instead of answering the Crow's answer, Jon posed his own set of questioning. For like maester Luwin said, when thrust in a foreign scenario, do not panic, take everything in, form a basis, be subtle when questioning those around you, and trick them into giving you the right answer. Jon eye the Crow. " _But can I , a boy of no more than nine name days truly trick a man like him? A man that appears to be well in age_?" Still he carries on. He needed answers, and this old man held them.

Is this all truly true, and not just a fevered dream of my? He asked the Crow. Even knowing the answer already, he still wanted a different answer to his question. A sigh left the Crows lips. I wish this was but a mere fevered dream, then the world would still be safe when you wake.

  
But you've not answer my question young one. Are you scare? Jon continued to eye him. _"I could lie, but then again, what would it serves me here_?" Aye, Jon answered, I am scared but...he paused, Why me? A queer look appear on the Crow's wrinkle face. What do you mean why you child?

  
Why me? I mean, I 'm no one special. "Tainted blood flows though my veins.” There are hundreds if not more that are pure blooded. Those that are far better than me. My brother Robb for instance, the blood of the "first Men" flows through him, and he's the most honest person I know. Then there is my father, he is the most honorable man to have ever lived, surely they are far better than me!

  
The Crow chuckle. Do you think blood is all that matters boy? "A look so quick fell and passed over the boy’s face, if the Crow was not who he was, he surely would have missed it." It's true of what you've said of those two, but the Old Gods looked into them, and they fall shorts, so as everyone else. Fear not young one, for your father and brother shall play a big part in this coming game, but they shall not be the saviors that shall ends the Long Night.

  
"But? Jon started, only to be interrupted by the Crow.

Know this young one, the Crow continues, the Old Gods cares little for the blood that flows through ones veins, and they do not make mistake of such a caliber. "You were chosen by the Old Gods themselves!"

  
The look of disbelief still stayed on the boy face, and part of the Crow grew frustrated, knowing he needed the young King to except his role, he pushes forward. Tell me, does the blood of the First Men not also flows through your veins? Tell me boy! Is Brynden Rivers not your greatest hero? Is he not a bastard? Let me tell you boy, blood may play a factor in this, but much more is needed to stop the "Long Night."

The Old Gods believes in you. So believe in yourself, the Crow finished with a flourished of his arms.

What do you mean "Is"? The Crow give him a queer look. Brynden Rivers Crow. You said "Is" not "was". Why would you say such a thing?

That was all you heard from my speech boy? Aye! Jon answered with a gleam in his eyes.

Not only do you know that he is alive, but I bet you know where he is too Don't you Crow?

A snicker left the Crow's old lips, and before he knew it, and even before he could helped himself, he was laughing. He hasn't laughed like that in years. Never once did he believed a mere child could brought forth in emotion he once thought to have left him. Twice now it would seem the actions of this young child brought fought hidden emotions he thought once buried. Aye boy, I know Brynden Rivers, and I know where he lives.

Giddiness, that’s what Jon felt the most, even in this strange dream he was in. All left his mind when he found out one of his heroes live still. How Brynden lived still after all this time never entered the boy's mind.

The Crow watches the happiness in the boys eyes, but knowing soon he would have to dim it, had his heart ache.

Jon, Listen to me now. Your training cannot be accomplish while you live in Winterfell. You must come to me, you must cross the Wall. Those words sobered the young child fairly quickly. I know it is a difficult choice I've ask of you Jon Snow, but for the realm to be saved, you must come to me, and the longer it is put off, the worst it becomes.

Listen Jon, you're a boy of nine. Nine and a half Jon whispers back. Forgive me, a boy of nine and half the Crow corrected himself with a smile. You not need come too me till you're a boy of ten, that way you can spend sometimes with those you love.

How will I come to you Crow if I choose this? Worry not about the details for now, for the foundations have already being set in motion. Give me not your decision yet, think it through, and when you are ready, just let the crow knows your answer.

The sun is coming up, and you must wake from this dream now. And Jon, tell no one. If you were to tell others, they'll think you've gone senile, and knowing your father, he will have you watch more closely, and when the times come for you to come to me...if you so chooses, it shall be far harder to be spirited from Winterfell and your fathers eyes.

Waking up under the Hearts Tree in the Godswood, Jon watches as the sun still behind the mountain began to illuminate the horizon. Getting up and stretching his sore muscles, he spots the crow unfurls his wings and took flight. He watches the crow screech and circle the Heart Tree once, twice, then flew down only to perched itself on his left shoulder, talons sinking into his skin, and drawing blood. Jon felt none of it, for he was numb from both the cold from sleeping outdoors and what the Crow showed him.

Petting the crows head, Jon makes his way out of the Godswood with the crow still perch on his shoulder, all the while not knowing The Three Eye crow watches him as he walks away.

As Jon reaches the gates of the Godswood, the crow screeches once more and took flight and disappear from his sight.

Jon exists the Godswoods as quietly as he could so as not to draw any atention to himself, but his efforts were for naught, for not ten feet stood Rob with a queer look upon his face.

Jon watches as Robb walks towards him. Where were you? Robb questioned. When I woke this morning, Arya and I went to your room, and you were nowhere to be found. We searched everywhere Jon, and I had to do everything in my power to stop Arya from crying. "Gods Jon!" I almost went to father for I thought some harm had befallen you.

Jon listen as Robb continues on, he watches the pain on his brothers face, and heard the desperation from his voice, thinking something had hurt him, and sweet Arya, his baby sister of just shy of five, worrying about him. It was at that point that Jon truly made up his mind. For he knew then and there, that learning from the Crow might help the realm, maybe even saved it, but the most important thing was the safety of his family-For his family did indeed meant more to him than he first believed.

Before Robb could continue, Jon threw his arms around him and embrace him in a tight hug. It was so sudden that Robb was caught off guard that he couldn't form any words. "I am sorry Jon whispered." I did not meantto worry you brother. "Forgive me." Once the sudden surprise left Robb, he returned the embrace. "Of course you're forgiven brother, just don't do it again." Aye Jon answered throat clogged up form holding back his tears. I shan't scared you and Arya again. I promise. Jon's heart grew heavy, for he knew sooner than later that was a promise that he would have to break. " _For I shall soon abandoned you all_." He thought.

Come Robb said, let go find Arya and break our fast. As they turn to leave, Jon turned and look at the Godswood, and he knew in his heart of hearts that all he was showned were true. " _None were lies_." The Crow he knew kept secrets from him, but the Night King and his army was truth told to him. Jon made a vow then. " _Old Gods here me, as long there is breath in my body I shall fight to the bitter end to end the Long Night, and to protect my family."_ Overhead, he heard a screech of the crow coming from the Godswood as if his prayers were heard. Casting one last long look, Jon follows his brother.

 

                                                                                                  **The Wolf On The Wall**

  
Benjen Stark love these long treks beyond the wall. When he was beyond the wall, nothing much mattered but survival. For just one misstep could cause you your life. Beyond the wall, when one's mind must be occupied by the mission and survival and nothing more. It stops a man from thinking about their failures in life. For Benjen Stark, the third son of Rickard Stark, he has much failures in his past he wished he could just forget.

Not a day goes by he does not prayed to the Old God to bestowed upon him a chance of changing the pass. Even knowing it was all futile, he still pray to the Old Gods to return to the past and stopped the tragedy that befell his family nine and half years ago. "The death of his father Rickard and his elder brother Brandon Stark at the hand of the Mad King Aerys II Targaryen". "But most of all the death of his beloved sister, the she-wolf of Winterfell, Lyanna Stark." How he loved her-love her still-even till this day. Seeing her lifeless body when Ned brought her back, broke him. That was the true catalyst for him joining the Night Watch. Another one of his regrets was abandoning Ned when his brother needed him most. Especially with a new wife, the new Warden of the North, and two boys to take care off. Yet he still abandoned them. He hated himself.

Oh yes, the man at the Night Watch may call him brave, but in his mind, he was nothing but a coward. A coward that abandoned his family for the ghost at Winterfell grew too strong for him to handle.

So like the coward he was, he had Ned give him his blessing, playing on his brother's nature of being honorable and putting duty first. Not a day goes by that he wished Ned had refuse him. That was the problem with Stark's men. Anyone that knew them could manipulate their very nature to their will. He couldn't help but chuckle at the irony really.

Rickark Stark “the immovable Wolf” for when his mind is made, nothing could change it.

Brandon Stark the hot headed one. "The Wild Wolf" taking actions first, and not caring of the consequences, letting others deal with the fall outs of his actions.

Ned Stark the honorable one, "The Quiet Wolf" that put Duty and honor before his very own life.

Lyanna Stark, the “Wild Wolf” that rebel against the norm. Daring to live the life she desires, not what others wanted of her.

While he, Benjen Stark "The Young Pup" was the naive and coward one. The one that ran away from his family and its responsibility by joining the Night Watch. _Fuck_! He thought.

Sometimes, when he's alone in his thoughts, oh how he hated to admit them, but part of him blames Brandon and their father for their rash actions by personally going alone south, and demanding anything form the mad king.

Beyond the wall, not being focus on the mission was asking for disaster. But for the last fortnight, the ghost of his father, his brother, and of his sweet older sister have hunted both his dreams and waking moment. They were specter that would retreat to the back of his mind while he was on a mission, but lately, not even the mission was enough anymore.

As he sat upon his steed and remanence of the good days in Winterfell, he failed to pay attention to his surroundings, he was not the only one. It seems his two brothers were in the same mindset, and when realization set in, it was far too late, for the enemy was already upon them.

Benjen back stiffen upon his stead. Phillips, Thorn, he whispered. The urgency in his voice alerted his brothers at once, What is it? Phillip whispers. Listen, do you here that? I hear nothing Thorn answered back. Exactly! There's no sound, not even the birds are chirping. I believe we're surrounded. Stop! Benjen hiss when his two brothers went for their blades. Leave them sheath, let's allow them to believe were still unaware of them. Continue to move as if none have changed, and on my mark, we shall make a break for the open roads.

Fuck! Benjen couldn't stop himself from swearing. In his lamening of the past, he not only endagers his life, but those under his command also.

With all three bothers on high alert, they continue to move forward, commanding their steeds to move just a little faster than normal, and not one minute past before Benjen gave the command.

"Go! With that command, the eerie silence that surrounded them was broken with the galloped of all three steeds. The three brothers of the Watch weave their steed through the trees with the grace seeing only from the Dothraki riders. It seems that was the signal for the enemy to attack. Less than one hundred paces was reached before all three horses screeched to a halt, refusing to move forward no matter what their riders did.

While the horses refused to move forward, Benjen and his brothers watches as a fog of pure white slowly begin to crawl toward them, and before they knew it, the fog had them surrounded. The fog was dense that the brothers were barely able to see more than ten feet in front of them, even with the moonlight bright in the sky and illuminating the land.

The fog not only limited their visions, it also brought with it an icy cold. A cold that seeped to the bone and took refuge. slowing the movements of both man and beast.

With a silent command, the three entered into a defensive stance, their backs to each other and there weapons at the ready. Only sound that was heard was the neighing of the horses and there foot hitting the ground from being too frighten to move. Nothing the riders did to soothe the beasts worked.

Benjen watches as shadows covered by the fog slowly moves towards them. Slow, sluggish movements that seem undeterred from the cold. I count one Thorn whispers, as do I Phillips reply. Aye, I myself sees one, and no more. It seem we're in luck then. Why have they not attack us yet? Ask Thorn. Are they afraid? No answer was given, for neither man knew such an answer. Thorn, the youngest and most brazen of the three screamed out his frustration. "Attack us you Wildling whores, or are you shits afraid of the Black Brothers!"

A part of Benjen knew for a fact, these shadows were no Wildlings, and this fog and cold was not natural. Nothing that move so silently was natural, not even the best of predators was able to stay so still without giving a twitch. Still he pray to the Old Gods he was wrong. But knowing his luck, and how cruel the Gods can and could be, he very much doubted his prayer would be answer.

With baited breath the brother waited for the attack. Hours seem to pass before the attack came, but was truly just minutes, no less than five-and with a growl-all three shadows charge forward. In the blink of an eye, they were upon them, and Benjen saw what he was fighting, and his heart almost stopped. For nothing in his life could have ever prepare him for this. He sent a silent prayer to the Old Gods, and raising his sword, he slice toward the undead.

 

                                                                                                  **The Three Eye Crow**

 

After nearly nine years and half of thinking and planning since the vision he'd received from the Old Gods, he now knew how to bring the young King to him. Watching through the many eyes of the animals he controlled, he saw the "First Ranger known as Benjen Stark" and two of his black brothers desperately fighting off three wights. He watches as one of the Ranger sliced open one wights stomach with a swing of his sword, and thinking it dead turned his back to help with the other two. Only for that wights to rise again and lunges for his throats and rip it from his body.

The second brother fell. After taking the wight’s legs, he turn to help Benjen killed the other two, only for that wight to grab his leg and bit a chunk off. The wight came back with meat and leather in his mouth. He watches as the black brother screams and tumble before falling on his knees, and the wight jumping upon his back and taking him to the snow, then ripping his throat with his cold dead hands. The Crow watches as the last black brother continue to fight desperately, knowing his end was near, but refusing to surrender all the same. Even with a sprained wrist from when his horse dropped him, he fought on.

Yes, the Crow smile, this man can help. Find him before it's too late the Crow was quick to send the Children of the forest a phychic message.

It seems today the Old Gods were merciful, for the Children's were but a few hundred meters away from where the man of the Watch were being attack, and said Children of the Forest were hunting said three wights, for it had been years since the last sighting of any wights and their out-worldly masters so close to wall and civilizations.

The Crow watches as the three arrive on the scene and begin to attack with their flames and setting the three wights on fire and making quick work of the mindless creatures. And just to be safe, setting the other two dead black brothers aflame.

The three Children of the Forest turned and watches as the last warrior crawls away from them in fright, all the while leaving a trail of his blood on the pure white snow. He continues to watch as he struggles to keep his eyes open, both from tiredness and loss of blood. But alas, he lost the fight and fell unconscious. " _Yes young one, fight the darkness, let it not take you so easily, fight and live so you can bring the future King to me_."

The Three Eye Crow watches as the three children hoist the man on the black elk and begin their journey back to him. Yes, he smile. “Another shift in the threads of fate taking place, another piece in this eternal game taking its place on the board. The realm of man has yet gained another chance to be saved."

"The Crow smile."

 

                                                                                                    **The Un-Broken Blade**

  
A man covered in shadows, leaning against a branch with arms cross and a bastard sword straps to his back watches as the Crow went through one of his weird trances-warging it was called.

Remembering when he first woke, barely able to move due to life threatening injuries from a blade that came close to taking his head, his hand on their own accords flew to his neck to feel the scar left there. An ugly scar it was-covering half his neck, from back to front. " _Every time I think of that day, this wound though healed, throbs_." From what? he did not know, or maybe it was from his failures. But throb it did.

The Crow first came to him in his dreams as a mere old man. Speaking to him of what to come, and his role in the game. First he thought death had claimed him, or near to taking him, and this dream was just his mind readying him for his final journey. Many a warriors that escaped death's sweet embraced have claimed of such weird dreams. Dreams that held no sense, nor purpose once they woke, dreams put on hold, and delaying death herself for the time being.

But then, the dreams changed into...for a better word, an imaginable nightmare if a word was needed to describe what he was seeing. Creatures he once read about in books-creatures he once dreamt off and shared with him-with their endless armies behind them, spreading like locust, offering nothing but death in their wake. No castle tall enough, nor ocean wide enough, or army vast enough that could stop them. Delay was all they offered, but sooner they fell before said plague.

Then he saw him, mounted upon his dead steed, and those blue eyes of his, though this was just a mere dream- till death took him-pierced him to his very soul. His very soul itself shook from fright, from just a mere look. “Him,” a warrior that fought and won battles others thought impossible was scared, rendered a useless pup of a child from just a mere look.

Then it all fade away, and a new vision appears before him. But instead of the creatures and their masters. This time, it was of a young man of northern looks, arms intertwined with a young lady with Targaryen's features. Two young adults he's never met before, but looked oh familiar to him. But try all he could to bring clarity on the two, his idle mind continued to fail him

" _Why am I being shown this_? _Why am I dreaming such a dream? I should be seeing my family, those past and yet live. So why this dream?_ He continued to question himself.

While he pondered such inquiries, a roar of thunder interrupted his thoughts, the light that followed was so bright, it left him temporarily blind. But once his vision were restored, two man appears before, his other two brothers he thought dead.

All three brothers regarded each other as naught but apparition. The same look upon their faces-perplexed and full of question on their lips that refuses to fall.

It was him that imposed the first question. And with careful consideration, the three began to speak. The more they talk, the more they realize how their story intertwined. " _This can't be a mere dream...can it?_ "

Then he appeared to them, after the three had shared all they knew. This old man dress in all black, white short hair, face full of winkles, and eyes that have seen much, and in possession of so much more knowledge than all three combines, further gutted them with truth they so desperately needed.

“You three!” He began. Have been chosen to play in this great game of ours. Though he spoke in but a soft and gravely tone, to the three that stood before him, it might as well as if he all but shout out his answers.

All three had look upon him with the keen eyes of warriors, warriors that had seen more than most men, and that survived far worse, And with a silent signal from each other, all three took a defensive postures.

This old man who's yet revealed his name chuckle seeing that.

The old man before them went on to tell them of how they were saved by man loyal to his Gods. "The Old Gods of the Northern people." What transpired after. Going so far to show all the evils that were committed by the Lions and how the Stags welcomed it. When that scene was showed to them, the three cried. For the loss of the innocents, for failing in their duties, and most of all, for such a cruel travesty to let happen with no punishments giving.

Then, they saw how the Wolf, so sickened left the Stags and his throne behind, and their friendship shatters forevermore. They were even more surprise when the middle Stag was just as disgusted as the wolf.

The dream ended as soon as he heard movement.

  
Opening his eyes, his sight fell on a giant elk carrying upon his back a man of the Watch. From said angle, he was unable to see the man's face. Turning his eyes on the Crow he watches the small smile on his face. Even to this day, knowing what he knew now, it still unnerved him whenever he laid his eyes upon said being and the Children of the Forest.

Pushing off the wall, shadows dance upon his face, as if not knowing what to show to the light. He was a man full grown, with shoulder length hair, black as night being held in a pony tail. Strong features with the bluest of eyes. A face woman would consider ruggedly handsome. Dress in all heavy black clothes that stays the cold away in the north. A north his resided in for the pass three month. When the Crow visited him in his dreams while he lived in secrets with the man that saved him and his brothers from death nearly nine years ago to come north. He believed it would have been nearly impossible, but with just another smile upon the Crows visage proved him how little he knew, and how young and naïve he truly was in the end.

It was far harder to navigate the North than he first thought, but not impossible with his training, and the crow that showed him the way to the wall. He did his best to stay away from the smallfolks and soldiers. Choosing to camp outside instead of taking a useless chance in a town, or an inn were man were too folly and brave for their own good after rounds of drinks in their belly, and bestowing upon them false bravery. “ _Best to stay outside_ ” he had thought.

Throughout his long trek to the wall, he contemplated all the Crow told the three, and for the first time in a long time, honor was not what he thought off, but revenge. All three wanted revenge against those that betrayed them. Their rage combined was near to bursting, so strong was their rage, they were ready to storm King’s Landing and killing the Usurper and his dogs. Knowing they’ll not survive, and not caring. It took the Crows showing them the vision of the true war yet to come that held their sword.

He remembered resting that night, and dreamt of her. He’s yet to shed tears for her, not because he was unable too, because knowing once start, he would not have the strength to stop. And in his heart of heart, he truly believe the only way to stop the pain, was to end his life and meet with her in the after. His brothers knew the true, a truth they came to accept, no matter how they hated the idea.

The only thing that stall his hand, was knowing what lays headed, and the role the young King and Queen would come to play.

She would never forgive him he knew, if he were to take the cowards way out instead of fulfilling his vows- _even though she herself did the same. He couldn't blame her, she suffered enough, and he loved her far to much to begrudge her peace_ -So for now, vengeance was their fuel to continues on.

The Lions shall all be rendered as mere kitten before them. The Stags shall be feasted on, the Dog shall be beaten and broken beyond measure, and the Bold shall answer for his treachery.

Oh vengeance shall come he spoke out loud. They shall pay when the time comes. For in the end, only the Wolves and Dragons shall stand triumphant.

Walking toward the elk and the pass out man, he hauled him off the elk and lay him down with as much care as possible, les he injured him further. The features looked strangely familiar, but he could not place them truly, but he would hazard a guess he was most likely a man of the North due to his skin tone being paler than those down South. _Then again, he might have been on the Wall long enough to lose everything that made him a_ _Southern_.  He survey the man for life threatening wounds, finding none, he turns his attention to the Crow.

Who is this man you have brought here? Though he did know the Crow for long, he knew the man-creature more likely- never did anything without reasons or cause. That young one, the Crow smiles, is the man that shall bring us the young King to train. The Crow finally answers.

A frown fell upon his features from the Crows answer, or lack there off. Not the answer to the question I ask. He was quick to fire back. The Crow let out a quick laugh, that only made his frown deeper upon his face. Do not frown so much young one. As to your answer, he shares the blood of the King-he’s eyes widen in shock at the news, head whip around to once more take the features of the unconscious man before him.

Yes, he spoke out loud-more to himself than the Crow- I can see the Stark features clearly now.

Still looking at their newest recruit, a true smile made itself upon his face without his trying. His heart sang, blood pulsed, he could hardly wait to have the young King here, to begin his training.

“ _By the time I'm done with you, none shall be able to stand near you and calls themselves your better..and when you are made known to the realm, all shall tremble before your greatness, and be in awe of your grace.”_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks in advance to all that chooses to read this story. Positive criticism are welcome, and trolls will be ignored. All mistakes are mine and mine alone. Still looking for a beta.


	3. The Guardians

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't want to make excuses, but the reasons i couldn't post was because life got in the way. I will say this, i understand far better now when an author who's story i'm reading takes forever to update, and when they return they just say life.

**A Song Of Wolves And Dragons**   
**HouseOfEl**

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****Chapter 2  : The Guardians****

 

Summary **:**

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Benjen meets his saviors, learn some truths, while a heavy decisions is trust on his shoulders. While in Winterfell, Jon's activities are uncovers.

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Note:

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Don't want to make excuses, but the reasons i couldn't post was because life got in the way. I will say this, i understand far better now when an author who's story i'm reading takes forever to update, and when they return they just say life.

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                                                                                        **Chapter 2 : The Guardians**

**The Wolf On The Wall**

 

Benjen woke with a start, every part of his body hurt. Last thing he remembered before falling unconscious was bleeding on the snow after being ambushed by those things. Even now, his mind refused to believed they were the undead… Foot soldiers of something far worse he fears. Then he remembered being rescued by those small looking creatures.

Where am I? He spoke aloud after sitting up, only to hold his head for the headache that accompanied both his voice and the momentum of sitting. Head still throbbing, Benjen rubbed his eyes and forced himself to adjust to the darkness that was barely illuminated by the one fire pit near him. Second thing he did was to reach for his sword, only remembering dropping said sword before falling unconscious. Checking his boots, he was surprised both hidden knives were still on his person. Maybe they left them as a way to calm your mind and prove no ill intents. His thoughts turn nefarious before he could grasp the full impact of where he was. Maybe they left the knives to better manipulate you? Why save your life if they did not desire some kind of boon in return?

With those thoughts in mind, Benjen carefully stood up, and was fairly surprised when he put pressure on his sprained leg, and all he felt was a ghost of a pain telling him he had previously hurt said leg. Checking himself over, Benjen found all his wounds were close to being healed, while the minor ones were healed completely with nothing but faint scars as reminders.

Benjen survey the area he was in, even with the fire near him, he saw no further than a few feet ahead of him, he was quick to enter a defensive stance when he heard noises coming from his flank. With no further noises, eyes still straight ahead, Benjen slowly squats down and grasp the knife from his right boot, and with his left, grasps a log to serve him as both a torch and a secondary weapon. Benjen waited for nearly a minute before he rose when there were no more noises.

Knowing nothing would get done by staying static, Benjen followed the noise.

Benjen moves forward at a slow pace, though he was healed, he still plays on the side of caution, not wanting to further injuring himself, or to foolishly rush forward when he had no idea where he was.

It seems that the shadows were playing a game with him Benjen was quick to realize when the shadows themselves were moving with him. For every step he takes, the shadow took three from him. He was further unnerved when the shadows were able to move so silently, while he, even with torch in him was fumbling and hitting himself as if he were a newborn babe learning to walk. The only time the shadows made any noise, was when multiple routes appeared before him.

So for nearly ten minutes if his count were accurate the cat and mouse game continued. So who’s the mouse in this scenario he couldn’t help to think. So he chased the shadows, and as he nears, the shadow escape him and the light. Through all this, Benjen kept his demeanor, never letting his frustration get the better of him. The chase between man and shadow went on for another five minutes until he glimpsed light ahead of him. With caution, Benjen entered and was surprised by the size of the room. Torches hang on the wall illuminating the great area. Looking around the massive room and with the better lighting, if he had to guess, he would estimate the room could easily fit the great hall of Winterfell at least twice over.

It seems his original thought process were indeed true, those creatures did indeed took him to an underground base. Looking around, this place was a marvel created from the dirt being dug and the multitudes of vines big and small that served as a structure system. To his left Benjen survives a hole in the ground with light coming from it. Moving toward said hole, he was surprised to see a giant metal bowl with firewood and charcoal waiting to be lit. surveying the hole once more, he located all the necessary items needed for proper smithing.

Benjen could only hum to himself for this new discovery. This place continues to surprise me every seconds he spoke out loud.

How long did it take for such a place to have been built? Even more perplexing, for something this big...how was it able to go undiscovered till now? No he quickly corrected his thought process-it is still undiscovered, for I know not where I am.

Turning from the pit, Benjen continues to survey the area, and not seeing anything important, made his way to the only thing left of interest...the giant weirwood tree that sat in the middle, and who’s roots made the foundation of this underground palace.

Walking toward the weirwood tree, Benjen felt his senses kicked in and stopping him dead in tracks. Commanding his body to move, Benjen was once more surprise he took no more than three steps before his body once more seize up and stopped on their own accord.

What is this? He whispered to himself, perplexed. It could not have been just fear, he felt fear when those things attacked him. This...if he were to give a name would still eludes him for no words came forth.

Taking control once more of his body, Benjen looked to the ground as he watches his feet take one step at a time, only stopping when his eyes took notice of a giant root. Realizing he reached the weirwood tree, Benjen had barely looked up before he had to jump back in a defensive stance, torches pointing forward, and the knife held in a lunging stance.

His instinct roar at him to run, but the most he could do was stare, stare at the one red eye that glows with power-power that rooted him to his current spot.

Benjen felt nothing but horror as he looked upon this thing...this skeletal being twisted amongst the roots of the weirwood tree. He broke out of his stupture when the thing spoke.

“Do not be afraid young one.” The voice spoke out in his gravely tenure, breaking Benjen out his stupure.

The man, or what passes for a man raises one of his skeletal hands, and beacons Benjen forward. Benjen eyed him, not knowing what the right course of action was. But in the end, he chose to move forward, because just like he thought when he first woke up, they needed something from him, so for now, he was somewhat safe. Plus with his knives and torch in hand-wouldn’t take much to burn the tree-he would give them a fight if death were to come from this thing.

Stopping at arm's length, man and creature locks eyes.

Benjen watches with a sense of dread and fascination as he surveys this man before him. No, not a man he was quick to change his thoughts, this was a thing in human shapes, a being that should exist only in fairy tales...Then again the dead should be just that...dead. He couldn’t help but to think.

As silence continues to reign, man and creature surveys each other.

From his position, Benjen surmised that this creature was using the weirwood as a means of survival for the way the branches twist and supported his body, for something this decrepit couldn’t have survived otherwise.

This thing in a man shape possess pale skin as white as snow, with his hair paler still and cascading around him, so long that it reaches the ground-most women would kill to have that amount of hair. Benjen couldn't help but to picture his sweet niece, though Northerner, acted more Southerner taking great care of said mane of hair. One eye red and glowing, with the other socket empty with a branch of the giant tree that serves as his throne coming out of said socket. Yes, Benjen thought, this was no man. So for now, playing along is the best course for survival were thoughts that came to mind. Even though they saved him, that meant nothing in the long run. For he knew, saving him was just part of their plans. For what? He knew not.

Do not be afraid Benjen Stark. If Benjen was unnerved that this being knew his name, his outward appearances showed none, but on the inside he was wreck with emotions. Fear being the strongest, with answers the second.

“I am the Three eye Crow.” The being now identifies himself continued. It was I and my friends that saved you from death against the wights. Benjen watches as the darkness shift and six small creatures appears before him. Just like the being before him, they too were queer looking. Far smaller than any man he's ever laid eyes upon, equal to only imps in statures-maybe a few inches taller, or closer to a child near ten. Nut brown skin. Large ears, if Benjen was a gambling man, he would claim those ears also allowed them to hear better than any man, maybe even some animals. Large slitted eyes like that of cats, and watching the six, two had mossy green eyes, while the other possess blood red eyes. While their hands only carried three fingers and a thumb, with sharp black claws instead of nails.

What are you? Benjen imposed to the Crow. You look like a man, but no man I know looks like you.

Benjen frown when the so-called Crow smirked at him instead of answering his answer, while the small creatures looks on with little to no interest. Benjen knew he needed a different approach then. Can you at least tell me your true name then?

My name matters not young one. The Crow answered after a beat of silence, for you see, even I have forgotten it since I had no use for it here. If I remember correctly, the last time I used it was near sixty years ago, while my friends here do not care enough for names. But if you insist, you can refer to them as the First Men once did, "The Children Of The Forest."

A look of shocked pass over Benjen face when the name was spoken out loud. “The Children Of The Forest?!” How? He stammers. Question assaulted his mind, and before he could put them forth to the Crow, he was interrupted by said being. Young one, your questions can wait, your wounds have not healed completely, and for the task ahead to be accomplished, you will need to be at full health. Both mind and body he whispered. So low that Benjen almost missed it. What does that mean? Benjen didn’t know, but he would find out soon enough.

Fear not Benjen Stark, though this place may not be much, it is still my home, and I know the way of "Guest Rights.” Once more it seems this being known as the Three-Eye Crow was two steps ahead of him by knowing what he was thinking off. Either he was perceptive or he was a mind reader. By the Old Gods he wished its more the former than the latter Benjen pray.

I do not possess bread, continued the Crow, but salt and water I have plenty off. Benjen follows the Crow skeletal fingers to a wooden cup a few feet from them. Walking over the cup, while still keeping his eyes on the Crow and the so called Children, Benjen dropped the torch and bend down and grasp the cup. Looking into the cup, Benjen surmised the salt was already in the water for he could not locate any in the vicinity.

It’s not poison said the Crow.

Benjen couldn't help but smile at the wording. Well then said Benjen while raising the cup to his lips, if there's no poison, then I accept your “guest rights Lord Crow.” With that, Benjen drank, and as he surmised before, the salt was indeed already in the water.

After drinking the salted water, Benjen put forth an inquiry to the Crow. I assume since I'm the only one here, my two brothers did not survive the encounter with those creatures?

Silence from the Crow was all Benjen needed to know the fate of his two brothers.

Much is required of you, the Crow at last broke the eerie silence. You must rest before we can begin, follow the lights, they shall take you back to your resting site.

Benjen took his leave from the Crow with a heavy heart. More of my brothers i couldn’t save. He couldn’t stop himself from thinking.

Arriving at his bedding site, Benjen knelt and prayed to the Old Gods for his brothers souls. “Your watch has come to an end my brothers” were the last words he spoke before darkness claimed him.

 

**The Three-Eye Crow**

 

Unbeknownst to the Ranger, the Three-Eye Crow watches him leave, then through his many eyes watches as he knelt and performed his prayers for his fallen brothers. His thoughts were interrupted by the one of the children’s addressing him. Can he be trusted? Without giving the Crow a chance to respond, she carries on. For the task ahead can break any man, no matter how strong they are...or appears to be.

I believe he can be trusted, answers the Crow. But more importantly, I believe him strong enough for the journey ahead. For in his hand, he can either give the realm of man a fighting chance, or doomed them for ever more. I believe once he learns the truth, he shall come to our side.

The Crow watches the look of mirth on her face. Don't you trust me? He inquires. Playfulness still in place, she answered his query. Oh we trust you young one, it's man we do not trust.

I was a man once upon a time said the Crow. You were never just a man she answered back...not really. You were always special, she continues. There are few that are as special like you young one… and that man is not like you.

He is honorable. He couldn’t help answer her back. Defending Benjen Stark, let alone another race not the Children left a strange taste in his mouth. The Crow watches as the mirth never left her face. Sometimes he forgets, no matter how old he is, or appeared to be...to the children of the forest, he is naught but a petulant child that sometimes needed to be scowled for thinking he knew better. Sometimes he forgets how old they truly were, or how young he truly was.

With a heavy sigh, the Crow went on to convince them. ''Tis true that men are more destroyers than they are creators, but even if you have witnessed the powers they possess when they choose to create.”  
The Old Gods have shown us a means to battle our old foes. Though he is but one of the puzzle pieces, if we can convince Benjen Stark to bring the child to us, and begin his training, our fighting chances though slim goes one step higher. And I believe that is better than the percentage we're currently at. Don't you all think so?

So please my friends, help me save this World by first convincing him. The Crow was surprised when she chuckle at him. The sound like music to his old ears. It sooth his very soul.

You've not changed since the day you came to us. She continued, still the child that throws a tantrum when you don't get your ways-If anyone else were to ever refers to him as a child, he would have laughed at their folly and lack of knowledge, but she was one of the Children-and to her, he was nothing but a child, no matter how old he appears-worry not child, we shall help him she finishes with a smile.

The Crow himself couldn’t but to return the smile.

It was close to three days before Benjen returned to the throne.

The Crow watches as Benjen approaches them with careful measures steps, dressed once more in black, with one of his hidden knives strapped to his waist, and his hand on the pommel.

The Crow smile at the obvious treat. The boy would die before he could even remove the blade if he were ever deemed a threat. But at last, he needed the boy to play his part of the game.

There is no need for weapons here my friend. The Crow watches the boy’s face switch from passiveness to a scowl. You knew I had these two knives, yet you did not removed them? “Why?” Is It not obvious child? I desire your trust and help, and removing your weapons would be counterproductive would it not?

A queer look fell upon Benjen's face. My trust and help he questioned. Why? I may just be a man of the Watch, but I'm not foolish enough to delude myself into thinking I am something more. You and your friends, with that said, Benjen cast a look upon them only to return on the Crow, are anything but weak. I've seen only a little Benjen continues, but I know power when I see it, and you are all power.

Ah yes Benjen Stark, we do have power, but sometimes, power is not all that is needed. Sometimes the Crow continues, it is finesse that is required.

I see Benjen answered after a beat of silence. Very well then Benjen continued. You've saved my life, feed me and healed me back to health. I know not what you desire, but the least I can do is listen to your tale. Plus, my curiosity has been peaked ever since those things attacked me and killed my two brothers. But before we begin, tell me, how long have I been in this place?

A weeks times child.

A week! Benjen couldn’t help but exclaim. I've been here for a week he repeated again, this time in a softer voice. We were to report back to Castle Black four days ago he continues to whispered to himself.

The Crow couldn’t help but to scowl at the boy’s lack of understanding and the importance of saving his life. Humans he couldn’t help but to think, such small minded and idiotic things.

“Calm yourself boy.” The Crow grumble out.

You don’t understand says Benjen. This mission I was on was no ordinary mission. It was...I know the Crow interrupted Benjen’s rant. Your mission was to look into the so called “King Beyond The Wall.”

Not letting Benjen have a say, the Crow continues.

Tell me child? Do you believe your Commander to be of just mind. Of course Benjen was quick to answer. Commander Mormont is a man of honor and good judgement, and with Maester Aemon by his side, he’s decisions though hard, always benefits the realm and the Watch. The Crow couldn’t help but smile when the name of Aemon was mentioned. He missed his old friend very much so. In his past life, only a handful were elevated to said level, and Aemon was one of those rare beings. You would have made a great King. You should have been King

Coming back to himself, he interrupted Benjen’s rant. Then I believe your Commander Mormont will not lose his mind. So sit young one, listen to my tale, and once finish, you are free to go.

The Crow watches as Benjen eyes once more takes in his surroundings, and the Crow’s lips twitch in amusement as Benjen palm one of his knives, though hidden from view, were quick and easy access if he felt any dangers to his person.

I had hope to speak to you first before I showed you the possible future, but ''tis true that time is of the essence, not just for you, but for us as well. Come forward young one and place your hand on the tree, and all shall be revealed to you. Why? Questioned Benjen. As I said before, you've saved my life, and for that I am indebted to you, but it does not mean I shall blindly do what you ask of me without a proper explanation. Especially since I know not none you're names.

As I said before child, you can call me the Three Eyed Crow, and these are the Children of the Forest.

With scowl still in place, Benjen walked forward and place his palm on the branch closest to the Crow. Knowing arguing was useless with these beings. Less than a second pass before a look of horror passed over his face. No more than twenty minute passes before he woke from his dream with a scream that echoed throughout the chamber.

 

What was that?! Benjen demanded.

That young one is the end of the world. What you saw was the Night King, his Generals and the wights, his personnel army of the dead.

What can I do to stop such a large force? Not even the Night Watch would last more than a second over such a horde. Not paying any heed to anyone else but his own thoughts, Benjen began speaking his thoughts out loud. Ned! Yes Ned he all but screams. He can convinced Robert to rally the realm, then we stand a chance.

I need to return now he continues. Calm yourself child! Though his voice was soft and calm, a strength was felt in them, and that stopped Benjen cold.

I did not share that vision with you just to let you leave and to die needlessly young one. Now, remember, what else did you witness? Close your eyes, remove the fear, helplessness, what else did you witness?

A look of concentration appeared on Benjen's face as he followed the Crow's instructions. I saw the army of the dead, the Night King, his Generals and his wights? Yes, What else? The Crow presses on

By the Old Gods! Are those things Dragons? Yes Benjen Stark, the Crow’s timber voice answered him. He commands them. It was not a question, and Benjen knew the answer even before the words left his mouth. What else did you see? I saw an army of the living, an army made up not just of Westeros, but Essosis, their being led by a woman with pale white hair with purple eyes, and a man with black hair and brown eyes.  
Benjen eyes shot open to peer at the Crows one red eye. Who are they? Why ask questions to answers you already know young one? She's a Targaryen? And he, a man of the North.

Who are they? Can they end the Long Night? Am afraid not young one. You see, their alliance, though strong, stronger than any alliance the Seven Kingdoms ever witness, came still too late, all they were able to accomplish was to hold the Long Night at bay for a few years. Then why show it to me then? Benjen seethe in untold fury.

 

The Crow took a pause before continuing. That was a vision of a possible future, bestowed to me by the Old Gods, it's their way of making sure the Long Night not come to pass.

What's my goal in all this then? What true importance do I play? Questioned Benjen. So far, even after the thing he was shown and witness, like all beings when the rug were suddenly pulled under them, the Crow knew it was still a shock. And Benjen Stark, no matter how brave and special he was, was still a man whose rug were suddenly pulled.

The Crow allows Benjen time to regain his bearings before pushing forward.

Your part is both simple and hard young one. We ask you to bring us the young King to us so his training can begin.

No! You can't ask that of me he roared. For all we know, this King you speak off may not even be born yet, or as far all you know, that was the past that the Old Gods shared with you!

The Crow looked upon Benjen with a look of sadness, and he felt the pain in his heart. For this man's future was layered with heartbreak, both past, present and future. With a voice reserved to calm a child, The Crow went on. You know I speak no false child. Both of us know who the young King is. Denying the truth makes it no less true. "You of all knows whose blood flows through his veins." The Crow gave Benjen a look that told him all he needed to know. Secrets he hid away, secrets only he knew the answers for. The realm needs him, and we must begin now.

How can you ask this of me? Benjen questions with tears falling down his face. How can you ask me to make such a sacrifice? Haven't I sacrifice enough?

"No," you have not child. More sacrifices are needed for the survival of this realm, and this is just but one more you must make for its survival.

The Crow watches as Benjen Stark body were rocked with uncontrollable sobs, and all he could do was to tell him cry out his griefs to the realm.

Hours seemed to have passed before Benjen raised his head. His tears dry, his pain reflected upon his face for all to see, his heart broken, but the Crow knew a part of him was ready to sacrifice more of himself for the realm, but most of all for his family. For if Benjen Stark was anything-loyal was one of them. For this long he has kept hidden his sisters truth from all.

If I help Benjen began, if I bring him here before you to train, it must be his decision, no more, no less. That is not for debate, and if all you say about him coming to you are lies, "I shall make it my life to find and end yours!"

Worry not Benjen Stark, I've already spoken to the young King, and he's long ago made the decision to come to us. So there's no need for threats, for if we fail, all is doom. Now, all that’s left is for one strong enough to bring him to us.

A sad smile passes over both Benjen and the Crows face thinking of said child. That child is truly wise beyond his years. Yes he is, Benjen answered. A child raised as a Bastard, loved by few must grow far faster than others, les he wishes to be left behind Benjen finished.

Tell me Crow, what off the girl then? She is beyond my powers as this moment. The Old Gods do not live across the narrow sea, I have not the means to bring her to us. But, she is safe for now. Two trusted blades are nearing her location. They shall watch over her until she and the young King meet. But still, a look of sadness enters the Crow's one eye. I fear those two are not enough still, for all their prowess, politics is not amongst them.

Why not bring her here instead? Said Benjen.

I fear she would be killed if she were to be brought to Westeros. For we know Robert Baratheon spies still hunts the last Targaryens.

The Crow’s voice took a turn, gone was the soft and gravelly voice, now a hardness entered his tone when he mentioned Robert Baratheon’s name. Benjen just looked at him weirdly.

You do not like Robert Baratheon i assume.

A dry laugh left the Crow’s mouth. Let's leave it at this, if I had my way, Robert Baratheon and Tywin Lannister would be bones under my roots.  
Enough of regrets the Crow begins after a beat of silence, we must begin, for time is not in our favor.

Take these. Benjen turned to see one of the Children Of the Forest approached and present him with two identical necklaces of a wolf head with its jaws open and teeth bares, one made of pure silver and decorated with red eyes tangling from an equal long silver chain. While the other is made of copper, with Lapis Lazuli stones set as the eyes. These necklaces have been blessed with strong magic. Once place around your neck, the glamour spell shall take effect, deceiving all who look upon you. The silver is for the young King.

Word of advice Benjen Stark, use these amulets wisely, for the magic is limited once you leave the wall, and the further you put between you and the wall, the weaker the magic becomes.

I bid you luck Benjen Stark.

"And now we begin.” The Crow whispered to the children of the Forest as Benjen Stark walks away.

 

**Master At Arms**

 

Something had to be done. It seems that unbeknownst to all, Jon Snow, the Bastard of their Lords have been slipping out in the middle of the night and disappearing into the godswoods. Only to reappear before the break of dawn, looking worn and tired. When it was first brought to his attention by one of the guards that caught him leaving the godwoods one morning, he assumed he was just playing at being a child for once. He even believed he was being mischievous, he was happy for that child was too serious for its own good sometimes. Not even their Lord was such a serious child growing up. Then again, Bastard are forced to grow up faster than others.

Then more guards started reporting more sightings of the boy entering the godswoods when all was meant to be asleep, and reappearing at the break of dawn worn and weak, he knew his Lord was to be told, but first, he wanted to capture what the boy was doing first.  
So throughout the next two days not only did he watch the boy closely, but when he was unable too, he also enlisted the help of the guards into helping him. It seems the boy was more demure than before. Where he used to scowl and attempts to fights the Greyjoy for bringing to light his status as a bastard, all he did now was to tune him out. That just pissed off Theon even more, and in essence tries to further infuriates him. The boy also paid no mind to the maids gossip about him either. Now, he neither scowl nor brood, he became indifference from all form of gossips mentioning his bastard status.

In training, The boy was a whirlwind, beating most boys his age in swordplay, before he was equal to the boys his age, now he was a near unstable beast. His swordplay, if he was honest was not only far better than most boys, so was his foot works.

It’s as if he became a prodigy overnight, he mused to himself. The boy was always gifted in the handling of swords, but now, his level of growth was close to being unheard off. If he kept this level of development, in a few months he would be beyond them. In years, he’ll have no equals in Winterfell.

His archery and lance were the only two lacking. With Robb beating him most of the time with the lance, and Theon in archery.

Another thing that perplexed him when one of the guards reported to him was his sudden interest in learning. According to the guards, when he wasn't training or performing his tasks, he was in the library reading books. True, Lord Stark made sure his children were well read, none of them like the lectures Maester Luwin ever give them. Though he likes the man, he would be the first man to claimed Maester Luwin was a bore with his lectures. So boring and stiff his lectures were, he could force the most disciplined of man to perform suicide just to escape his lessons.

The only time the boy was happy, truly happy was when he was with his siblings. Arya and Robb and Bran to be more exact. For Rickon was to young, with Sansa, like her lady mother was aloof to the boy, only acknowledging him as a brother when she had no choice.

So on the fifth night, he decided it was time to confront the boy. Enlisting his nephew, Jory Cassel help, they waited for the boy to make his move. Not long after the whole castle was asleep minus the guards, they watched as the boy escape though the maids exit. Rodrik and Jory watches as the boy maneuvers the yards, making little noise as possible, and using the covers of darkness as his shield to escape to the godswoods.

He's good whispered Jory. I know Rodrik gumbled back. His mood already sour. For if a child could slip past the guards so easily, a boy with no ill intent, what would an enemy accomplished if the roles were reversed. As master of arms, the boy without his knowing just proved his job a failure. I’ll need to bring this up with the Lord next we converse.

The way he moves continues Jory continued not knowing his inner mind works. If I didn't know better, I would have claimed he's being doing this for far longer than just a week. Maybe he has, answered Ser Rodrik. And we're assuming it's only been a week since we caught on? Continued Jory.

“Aye!” Ser Rodrik was quick to answer.

You seem to be impressed nephew? Of course I’m impressed. Casting his nephew a critical look that was meant to serve both as a scolding and demands he continues, seems to have failed. It seems that it also amused him, if the smirk on his lips were any indications. Don't scowl uncle. The boys a “bastard!” Not caring with the scowl sent his way Jory continues. In the end, when the boy is a man grown, few options are open to him. If he's able to improve his fighting prowess, and stealth, who am I to judge.

With a grunt Ser Rodrik walked forward, not caring to see if his nephew was following or not. That nephew of mine is too laid back. Even as the Captain of the guards, most everything to him was meant as amusements. Event this event. By the Old Gods, why? Ser Rodrik groaned. He’s only form of answer was a chuckle from Jory as if he read his inner thoughts.

Entering the godwoods, all amusement left Jory's face. It seems the man could be serious when the need ask of him. Rodrik observed. Both warriors made sure to keep their steps light so not to give away their positions as they stalked the young boy, using the forest and trees as covers to march on.

Arriving at the edge of the pond that separates the heart tree, they spotted Jon Snow. What surprised them was what he was up too. Instead of being mischievous like they believed he was being. The boy was instead training. Ser Rodrik and Jory watches as the boy practiced different stances, and how he was combining them and flowing through them, though not flawlessly, it showed he was skilled. Some of the stances he knew he never taught the boy.

Ser Rodrik had to admit, the boy impressed him, his determination was unlike anything he ever witness from one so young, and it seems his nephew was just as impressed, if the light in his eyes and the grin on his face were to be the judge.

Ser Rodrick and Jory continues to watch as the boy continues to practice for another hour before leaving. All the while not knowing far above them, the watchers themselves were being watched.  
What's next uncle? Jory question. Ser Rodrik was crossed. Clearly the boy was trying to be a better swordsman’s, but at the same time, it was his job to inform the Lord if any one of his children were being a danger to themselves, Bastard or not.

Instead of answering his nephews question, Ser Rodrik propose his own. What say you nephew? Do I leave it be? Or report this to our Lord? It took Jory a while to answer, and when he did, Ser Rodrik had never felt more proud of his nephew. For he was finally growing into the man his brother would have been happy to witness.

If we let this be, he might end up hurting himself, worse yet die. If that happens, it shall be on our hands. But if it's reported to Lord Stark, he shall be scolded and possibly punished. Though both options are not what I would have desired, it's our duty as bannerman to the Stark to report something like this to our Lord.

Very well, Lord Stark shall be informed come morning. Go to sleep nephew.

I wish to be there when Jon Snow's confronted by the lord Stark replied Jory. Why? Ser Rodrik questioned. Simple Uncle, though I am far older than Jon, I am also far closer to his age than you or lord Stark. He might be more open to speak with a younger man in attendance.

Lord Stark is the boy’s father said Ser Rodrik. How more comfortable can he be? That he is Jory responded. But it does not make him a bastard any less. And with those words, Ser Rodrik watches as his nephew walks away, not giving him a chance to say anything less.

 

**The Honorable Wolf**

 

Lord Stark woke up with a troubled mind. Intuition told him something was afoot, and he won't like the outcome. The dreams of the past made his morning even worse. Especially Lyanna's death, and the promise he made to her.

Ned was always a quiet man, but this morning as he break his fast with his family, all in attendance, even the servants were aware of his mood. None more so than his lady wife. By the Old Gods he loves that woman. Not a days go by he doesn't thank the Gods for her and the five children she gifted him with. Though they have had their disagreements on certain term, they're loyalty and love were true. Not many could claim such a thing from an arranged marriage.  
Grasping his hand in a show of affection, she whispered her worried. What ails you my love? You've been more quiet than usual. Squeezing her hand back as a way of thanks, and before he could respond, Jon walked through the doors, and he watches as the light form his lady wife eyes dimmed just a little with the mere presence of the boy.

A sigh escaped his mouth. His lady wife never liked the boy, Jon was a constant sour mood between them, no matter how much time has past. It seems her loathing and indifference for the boy only grew as the boy age. For not only did Jon resembled a Stark far more than Robb, the rightful heir to Winterfell, but Robb and Arya and Bran love him without fault.

Looking over his vassals he caught the eye of Ser Rodrik his master at arms his nephew Jory, his captain of his guards, and with a mere look, he knew he needed to see the two, and whatever was needed to be said, it was of importance. What is it? Catelyn questioned. It seems that Ser Rodrik and Jory needs something of me. I want you and Maester Luwin there as well, I might need different opinions regarding its importance. Of course my love Catelyn answered. If anything can be said of his wife, no matter their differences, when it came to their children and the running and safety of Winterfell, he could always place his trust in his lady to offer a different perspective.

Once fast was done, Ned and Catelyn left the great hall, and with a silent nod, Ser Rodrik, Jory and master Luwin follows.

At his solar once everyone was seated, minus Jory choosing to stand by the close door, Ned looked on to Ser Rodrik, and waited.

It's about your son my Lord he began. Catelyn almost jumped from her seat when those words left his mouth. What's wrong with my boys Ser Rodrik? She all but growl. A quick pained look that left just as quickly as it entered Ser Rodrik eyes, and Ned knew who he referred to.

It's about Jon isn’t. Ned whispers. It wasn't a question.

"Aye my lord.” Answers Ser Rodrik.

A look of indifference entered Catelyn eyes, while a look of hurt entered Ned. He sometimes wished his wife cared more for the boy, but alas, it was a fools dream. With a nod from his Lord, Ser Rodrik begins his tale. A week ago my lord, one of the guards came to me and reported that he witnessed young Jon Snow leaving the godwoods before daybreak. At first I thought he was playing with young Robb, so I paid it no mind. Until the same guard reported the same sighting too me the next day. This time, when he entered the godswoods, he looked worn and tired.

Why did you not bring this to me earlier Ser Rodrik? Ned calmly questioned.  
I wanted to have the full truth before bringing this before you my lord.

And did you Ser Rodrik? Did you acquired all the evidence then? Aye I did my lord. I enlisted the guards to watch him, and they all claimed his behavior was queer. For instance my lord, young Snow spent as much time in the training ground, as he does in the library.

I see, interrupted Maester Luwin after staying quiet through the proceedings. All eyes turned to him, and with a look of embarrassment he explained. For the past four months my lord, books have been misplaced on the archives. With some even disappearing for a time, only to be brought back. Until now, I always assumed my memories were leaving me, and I was failing at my duties as a Maester to you and Winterfell. Forgive me for not telling you earlier my lord, I did not want to be seen as a burden, or worse, forced to leave. Though I am not Northern born, this place as becoming my home, and I did not want to leave.

With a wave of his hand, Ned waved away his worries. Fear not Maester Luwin, you're family to me and those in Winterfell, I would never abandoned one I considers family. So put your mind at ease, but next time a book is misplaced or moved-you should give us more credits old man, we Northerners are loyal to our own-inform me as soon it's discovered. Of course, my lord, Maester Luwin replied with a bow of his head.

Turning his eyes back to Ser Rodrik, continue Ned whisper. Once I heard all I needed, I decided to see with my own eyes, but I also believed another pair was even better. That's were Jory played a roll. I believed if anyone can have a better understanding, or catch something I have missed, why not have the eyes of the Captain of the guards. Once night came we waited for Jon to make his move. He waited till the whole castle was asleep, he used the servants part of the castle to enter and exit. The way he moved through the darkness and made it his shield even impressed my nephew, that's how good he is. If no attention was being paid to him, I don't believe he would have been caught. More so, I believe he was caught the first time was merely a coincidence, no more, no less.

Before i continue my lord, I would apologize for my failures.

Ned was perplexed. What failures.

Jon Snow proved one thing to me: my lord. The security in Winterfell is indeed relaxed, especially at night. If an enemy were to ever infiltrate us, we would be dead before we knew anything. Ned spies his wife hands shaking in the mention of an enemy killing them. As important as that was, he needed to return the conversation back to his son escapades in the night, when he should be sleeping.  
We shall speak more on the security of Winterfell, but we shall tackle one problem at a time. Continue on Jon’s escapades. If the scowl on his wife's face was any indication she hated the idea, he paid it no mind.

Ser Rodrik composed himself, then he continues his story.

We followed him to the godswood, where we witness him practicing his swordsmanship and footwork. He many have not perfected the stances I showed him and the others, but he’s close too. Not only that, we also witnessed him using three different stances I never showed him, and one that is foreign to me.

Once Ser Rodrik was done, all turned their eyes on their lord and waited for his response. And like the quiet wolf that he was, sat quietly and contemplate his next move.

Tell me Ser Rodrik, how fair is Jon's swords hand compared to others his age? I would say he is far better than most his age my lord, and if he continues at his current pace, none his age can match him in another year, even less if he is what I believe he is...a true "prodigy."

A prodigy you say? scoff Catelyn Stark. For a second Ser Rodrik both forgot she was in the solar and feared what the Lord might say. Are you saying a bastard is better than the heir to Winterfell? She seethe.

Enough. Said Ned. Though his voice was never raised, all one needed to know that he was both irked and disappointed in his lady wife were the emotions playing behind his eyes.

His eyes were so full of emotions that his lady wife could do nothing but turned away in shame. Not only for disrespecting her husband in front of others, but more so for her own honor.

One's status means nothing when it comes to swordplay. Compare myself to Jory here. He is the captain of the guards, where I am the lord paramount of the North, and he far surpasses me in swordplay.

My lord! Jory explain, do not say such things. 'Tis true Jory. Of the two of us you are far the better swordsman, why do you think I personally choose you? Turning back to his wife, Ned continues. Status means nothing on the battlefield, and if Robb is to rule Winterfell once I past, it's up to him to be a better swordsman. No more, no less!

Thank you for bringing this to light Ser Rodrik. Sweeping his eyes over the three man, he silently dismissed them. Jory, find Jon and bring him to me. Of course my Lord.  
The second the door was close, Ned turned to his lady once more.  
I know you hate Jon, but that gives you no rights to insults the boy, worse yet in front of others. Like it or not my lady, I love you more than life itself, but I love my children just as fiercely. He may not have my name, but he has my blood, and that's all that matters. Leave me now, I shall speak to Jon alone.

 

**The Bastard of Winterfell**

 

Jon's mind was a league away at the moment. Robb and him were practicing their swords while Theon sat on a pole looking on, trying his best to get under Jon's skin, and failing miserably if the look of annoyance that Jon saw on his face was any indication.

Robb struck Jon in the ribs with a move that Jon in the right mindset would have seen coming miles away, and Robb voiced his mind.

What's wrong Jon? Robb ask of him after helping Jon back to his feet. For the past month I've never been able to best you in a sword fight, and today you just allow yourself to be hit with such a clumsy move you should have seen coming a mile away? What's on your mind?

Jon look upon his brothers face and his heart broke, he hated lying to Robb of all people. Not a day’s goes by that he didn't want to share his visions with Robb, to tell him of the Three Eye Crow, but in the end, the lie always found itself coming out. For he knew he had no choice but to lie. At this moment, at this age, Jon knew he had no powers yet to make a difference, and he feared if he told Robb the truth, he might never get the chance to gained said power to protect his family. It had nothing to do with not trusting Robb, but according to the Three Eye Crow, keeping a secret was hard enough, but the more people that were involved, the harder it becomes to stay a secret. So swallowing the bile that rose in his mouth form the lie, he waved him off. I just don't feel good today Jon instead answered. Then you should go lie down, but come the morrow, I want your best brother, exclaimed Robb.

What he told Robb wasn't entirely untrue, he was feeling off since he woke, but what worried him the most was the two people the Crow spotted that were watching him while he trained. The Crow was unable to tell him who they were, for all he saw were there back, and he didn't pursue them, for his attention was needed somewhere else. So when he returned to his room, he expected to see the two men waiting to confront him, yet nothing. Grabbing as much sleep he could before he was required to wake and break his fast, Jon assumed the confrontation might have happened there, yet nothing came off it. From the best of his knowledge, no one acted any different towards him than usual. So throughout the morning his mind was jumping through many a scenario, and that made him anxious, which in turn made him feeling sick.

Arriving in his room, he barely was there for ten minutes before there was a knock. By the Old Gods, go away Jon grumble. Still, he got up to open the door, and there stood Jory, captain of the guards of Winterfell, and supposedly the best swordsman in Winterfell.

Come! Jory explained. Your father have needs of you. Not waiting for a response, Jory turned and casually walked away.

It took Jon a few seconds to catch up to Jory’s long steps. What does father wants that he would send the captain of the guards of all people to come retrieve me? He contemplates.

Wait! His mind wandered, was Jory one of the people the Crow saw last night? If so, did they tell father? Damn it! Jon cursed. If father knows of my activities because of Jory, then I need a way to throw him off my scent. What can I say to father that would both be true and logical? Before Jon knew it, they were in front of his father’s solar. Jory knocked, and after waiting for a second his father gave the permission to enter.

Taking a deep breath, Jon grab a hold of the knob, and before he could twist it, Jory put his hand on his shoulder. The two lock eyes. "There's no need to lie Jon Snow, be truthful to your lord father.” I know not why you've been escaping to the godwoods at night, but your lord father is an understandable man, he'll understand. With that, Jory removed his hand, turned and left.

Entering the solar, Jon saw his father sitting behind his desk with a neutral look on his face.  
Jon, his father acknowledge. Come, sit please. Following his father's advice, Jon sat on the chair opposite his father.

With his father’s stare on him, he felt like the child that he truly was.

Jon watches as his lord father took a breath. You know why I've summoned you here don't you Jon?

I don't father, Jon answered, playing the role of the fool well. Or as good a child can to a tactician as well versed as Eddard Stark.

A frown that appeared on Ned's brown told Jon his lie was but for naught. Do not lie to me Jon, Ned response with ease and a small smile playing on his face.  
Jon, Ned spoke. I know you've been in the godswoods, I know you've been training at night. I know not the full reasons why. But Jon, there's no need to lie to me, I'll not be mad. Nothing you say will make me love you less, you're my son, and I love you.

Jon listened to his father demurely, and each accusation made him feel low, but it was when the word son and love were spoken that Jon lost it. His heart broke when those words left his father’s lips. He knew that Ned Stark love him, but to say those words out loud to a lonely little boy, that’s all he ever needed. At this point, Jon cared little if there were no one to be a witness to his father’s words-he was there. That's all that mattered. As he opened his mouth to respond, to speak the truth to his father, and damn the consequences, his heart shattered with the next words from Eddard Stark.

I believe the only reasoning you've been both training and reading so much is maybe you are jealous of your brother Robb since he's the heir to Winterfell, and you're not.

It took a while before Jon answered, and Ned feared Jon would continue to stay quiet.

"Son you say"? Jon whispered so low that Ned almost missed those words. He thinks me jealous of Robb his mind roar in fury?

A fire burned in the young child's guts. A fire of righteous fury. Lifting his head and shooting Ned Stark a look of pure disappointment, a look that shook Ned to his core, Jon begins.

You call me your son! He seethed. You say you love me? Yet I do not carry your name?! Do I father!? I know what I am! You think I don't know what the servants and Bannerman refers to me? Or what the lady of Winterfell thinks and sees me at? Or why I do not seat with any of the Starks at the high table? Or why I am hidden away when anyone of status comes to Winterfell? Jon all but sneer. You think I do not know what I am? "Let me tell you father, I am Jon Snow! With those words, Jon thump his chest with a close fist over his heart and left it there. “I am the Bastard of Winterfell, I shall hold no lands, for a Bastard has no rights. I shall father no child, les I desires them to be ridicule worse than I!” Jon finished. Fire still burning in his eyes and guts. All the while, Ned sat there with a look of absolute anguish as he listens his son vent up the rage form his heart. The hate and sorrow and the unfairness of being a bastard. Ned never once thought the boy ever felt that way

Jon continues on.

"Robb is my brother, and I love him more than anything in this world, if you think I would betray my brother, then you give me far too little credit father!"  
I know what I am, Jon once more proclaimed while pointing his finger at himself. "I am Jon Snow, the one blemish on the honor of the honorable Ned Stark's honor." “I've always known my place in this world father, but I was always happy to have been your son, for few men in this world would acknowledge, or better yet, raise their bastards with their true-borns, and I thank you now father, for reminding me of my place today!”

By the end, both Jon and Ned had tears running down their faces. Ned from his lack of foresight, and Jon from his frustration of being nothing but a bastard and being treated as such. Wiping the tears from his eyes, and before Eddard could say more, Jon ask him to leave.

May I leave now father? Of course Ned answer after a beat, for he knew nothing more would be accomplished tonite.

Jon went directly to his room, not wanting to deal with anyone. Closing and latching the door so none could enter, he lay on his bed and shed tears. Tears full of sorrow and pain. All the while, the Crow watches on.

 

**The Honorable Wolf**

 

As Jon depart from his solar, all Ned knew, was that he failed the boy failed to love him, his aloofness toward him, though he never treated Jon badly, he now knew, his aloofness was just as bad.

Ned watches as his son demands his leave. Knowing he had no choice, he relented.

Tears fell unabashed even more from him once Jon left. Not once did he believe Jon felt this way. Even worse was when he accused Jon of being jealous of his brother. I am so sorry Lyanna, he spoke to the empty room.

All this time, I thought I was doing the right thing, I thought I was being a good father. How foolish I truly am.

Ned was so weak and drained from his confrontation with Jon, that he fell into the sofa in his solar and slept. Not even his wife being crossed with him for not sleeping in there bed was strong enough to make him leave. That night, like so many other nights when he was troubled, or something jolted his memory of the past, he dreamed about that day.

When the dreams came, Ned always had a secondary view of the events that played out. He watches as his younger self confronted the three kings guard. Said to be three of the greatest of knights Westeros has ever created. Ned watches as his younger self fought and lost. Knowing he won that battle, not through skills, but pure luck and treachery.

He was forced to witness his little sister, a young woman that was always strong and brave, rendered so weak on her deathbed. Holding on to a little boy, and making him promise to protect him.

By the Old Gods he's tried to protect Jon. But it seems, he only succeeded halfway. Though he was able to protect Jon from the predators that wished him harm, he still failed him in everything else. In essence, he failed his little sister.

As Ned continues to stand in the tower, part of him felt something amiss. For he always wake after making his promise to Lyanna. But here he was, still standing in the tower continuing to witness the final scene between him in his sister.

Trying to find the meaning behind such a thing, he turned a complete half circle when a voice came from his rear.

Ned watches as a man dressed in black, his face obscured by the sudden darkness, for some strange reason only affecting his visage spoke to him.

Taking a slight defensive form, Ned question this unknown force. What are you? Fear not Eddard Stark, I mean you no harm.

Not what I ask Ned fired back. I've relieve this memory plenty times, and not once were you part of it. So again, who are you?

The man chuckle. I am he who walks the unknown realm, he who was given powers over the unseen, the animals and the dreams of man. Ned queer looked never left his face after the being answered him.

Know this wolf, you have not failed your little sister, few men in this realm possesses such integrity, that they would besmirch their own honor just to keep a promise. With a wave of his hand, an imagine of Jon appeared smiling. So sleep easy young one. And before Ned could questioned this being, he awoke on the sofa in his solar, with his wife looking down on him with a stern expression on her visage.  
Forgive me for not coming to our bed last night, I was too tired to make the walk. The stern expression left her visage and was replaced with one of warmth and worry. Was everything alright then? He thought of lying to her, but changed his mind at the last second. No, everything is far from alright, and I will need to speak to Jon. Her face scrunched once more with Jon name being spoken.

I'll have the servants bring you your fast me Lord. Since you're so tired to move. With that, Catelyn turn and exit his solar. Part of him wanted to go to her and apologizes for the night prior. But Ned knew he was not at fault, he was just partly at fault. But far too long and many a times his lady wife has showed Jon nothing but contempt for something that was not of his doing or powers.

I'll have to talk to her about treating Jon more proper from now on. He knew every time the boy was brought up, his lady wife felt insulted. Not only did she felt slighted that he would break his vows of marriage by sleeping with another woman, even worse was bringing said slight back with him and raised alongside their true born. He knew how much he hurts his wife, and a larger part of him understood her, but at the same time, a smaller part of him feel hurt that she could so easily blame a child for their parents mistake, or easily forgets her house words, “Family, Duty, Honor.” No, right now, he had not the strength to care about her feelings.

Many a night he fought against himself about telling his lady wife the truth. That he was never unfaithful to her. Jon was not his son, but Lyanna and Rhaegar. He only claimed Jon as his because it was the last promise Lyanna made him swore to uphold. To protect her son from all, especially of Robert’s wrath. No matter the love he held for Robert, he can now without a doubt say that now he's older and more wiser, Robert never truly knew nor love Lyanna.

Robert was more in love with the idea of the woman, and not the actually woman herself. For Ned knew, no matter how much Robert claimed to have loved Lyanna, he would still have killed her son, her last living testament that she did indeed leave in this shit stain world. All he had to do was look back in the senseless murder of Elia and her two children. There only sins being of Rhaegar’s blood. Ned saw a part of Robert he never thought existed, he witnessed firsthand the joy in his eyes when he was told of the death of the children-or “dragon spawns” as he dubbed them.

So he kept the secret. Brother or not, that was one thing he would not allowed. Nothing would cure the thirst Robert till this day still carry for anything Targaryens. For even now, assassins are still used to hunt the last two known Targaryens, even though there were far across the sea and hold no possible threat to him.  
Yes Ned thought I would go to war for him if he's ever discovered, even against a man I once called brother.

So just as easily the thoughts came of telling his wife the truth, they are just as easily smothered. For a lie is better to keep a lie when few knows the real truth. A lie so great, that not even Benjen was aware, his own blood.

Not too long after a knock was heard, and giving permission, servants brought forth his food. Thanking them, they took their leave, and Ned's mind returned to the stranger in his dreams. But no matter how much he tried to remember what the dream was, or what the stranger said to him, all was for naught.

And as the days pass, the dreams will become just that, mere dreams.

 

**The Three Eye Crow**

 

The Crow watches through the many of his eyes in Winterfell as the young King cries himself to sleep. Not knowing what to do but wanting to soothe him, the Crow enters his dreams and he began to play the best of his memories. The good memories though were few, were sweet. His sparring with his brother Robb in the training yard. Both doing their best to outdo the other, not caring who ends up winning. Making snow castles with Arya, and committing as much mischief, and pushing how much they can get away with. The Crow left the young King to his dreams, and return to his own body.

Waking up, he found himself surrounded the Children. How far are we in the trials? We are close responded one of the Children. But I worry young one, from what you told us, true he is one of the key factors to winning this war, but is he not to old? From the vision the Old Gods shared with you, the young King training should have begun by the age of four, seven being the oldest. I fear, the Children continued, by starting his training three years too late, the young King might not survive the trials, and if he dies, then we lose one of the key factors to halting the Long Night.

Silent reign in the crow's chamber. After a beat, he answered the Children of the forest. ''Tis true we take a high risk, but my friends, if we do nothing, all is doomed regardless. With this trial given to us by the Old Gods, we have a slim chance to hope of winning. The Old Gods believes in the young King, Let us believe in our Gods, for They have never led us astray, but more importantly, let's us believe in the young King, for I do not think the “Old Gods would have taken such a great gambit when the trials are of concern.”

Very well answer the Children, and with that, the worries were laid to rest.

Will everything be ready by the time the King come to us?

Yes, And this time it was the de facto leader of the Children that answered the Crow. You fret far too much young one. But tell me, why did you spoke to the quiet one? She questioned.

It took a second for the Crow to answer. A look entered his one eye. I know not really, all that came to me was the young King was in pain, so was his father. I knew I could help, so I did. The young King is sacrificing much for us, he is being forced to fight and sacrifice for our past sins.

A pain looked pass on the Children of the forest faces with the mentioned of past sins. Whether the Crow acknowledged it or not, he continues on regardless. So the least I could do is to alleviate his family's future pains, even if its only temporary. But worry not, the wolf will believe it was naught but a dream, and the more time that passes, the more he shall forget, until he nothing at all. I only went to him to temporarily help him cope with the past, for even after nine years, he mourns still.

Coming back to the matter at hand, the Crow continues to discuss the coming trials with the children.

According to the Old Gods and the knowledge bestowed to me, everything must be precise, too little the process won't work, and the young King is left dead in all but body. Too much and he dies a gruesome death.

How many of the trials must he go through first? She asked again. The young King shall undergo three life altering trials. Each having a chance of killing him. With the fourth trial being more on his knowledge and prowess in all he was thought.

Trials aside young one, says another f the Children. The young King will need to be fitted properly. What do you propose then? The Crow inquired. Power and knowledge are just one of the many things he will need once his training is complete.

The Children locked eyes then turned to the Crow as one. He shall need steel that does not bend nor break and without the need of honing. “Valyrian steel to be exact.” A steed of pure strength and stamina, a steed that hardly tires to carry him to battle and home. A steed unlike the one you bestowed upon Benjen Stark. For you cannot always be there to commands it. Lastly, he shall need eyes in the skies to see his enemies movement.  
Valyrian steel I can provide, responded the Crow, but a steed like the one you're thinking off is unheard off, lest it be dead. For nothing alive possess such stamina. For eyes, I can gift him with one of my Crows, and teach him the gift of warging. For in Stark blood, flows said power. Even stronger than his Targaryen side.

I wonder if it's possible? Says one of the Children. What is? Question the Crow. What if we were to bestowed two of the trials on a beast?

Do you think I'll work? Said the Crow.

Why not? She was quick to answer. The Old Gods never claimed it was only for humans. We just assumed it couldn’t be done. An animal is far stronger than a human overall, some just as intelligent, if not more so.

Depending on the animal, we might have to either lower or up the dosage, and tweak it to the proper beast, but I do not see why it cannot be done.

Very well then, says the Crow. We shall try our best to bestowed the young King a steed of unparalleled power.

Once more silence fell, and it was only broken by one of the children asking a question to no one in particular. Can they truly save us? Can they truly erase our sins? No answer came forth, for no one knew what the future held. For all their powers, seeing the future was as volatile as a snowstorm. It's unpredictable, it pulls, twists and shifts you in the direction it desires to go. Not the one you desire.

Still the Crow and the Children knew one thing. No matter how unpredictable the future was, the Gods, the ones they've served for as long as time has existed have bestowed upon them a means to battle the “Long Night” in the form of two young monarchs. Though one was far from their reach, the young King was within them, and once he comes to them, by the Old Gods they shall serve him, and raise him as the instruments that shall change the course of the realm, and forever ends this darkness that plagues realm.

“Those two they all believes, shall bring forth the Dawn!”

**Author's Note:**

> As you can see, there's a crossover tag with no name being mentioned. I left it as that because I want it to be a surprise. The tag will change come chapter five or so.
> 
> I have one important point I need to make. You can criticize this work all you, and I'll except all feedbacks. Just don't act like an idiot just to act like an idiot.


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